


The Audition

by unilocular



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unilocular/pseuds/unilocular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The famous actor, Tony DiNozzo, has his eye on the role of a lifetime: Liam MacGregor in Deep Six. When he shows up at NCIS to meet the author of his favorite novel, what could possible go wrong? For Tim McGee, just about everything. AU. Tim and Tony friendship; Gen with some read between the lines McNozzo. Already complete, one chapter per day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Reverse Bang challenge on LJ. Without the wonderful penumbria's art, the story would never have come to fruition. She created a beautiful piece of art that got my creative juices flowing and this story would not exist without her. She also made an extra piece of art that brought one of my favorite parts of the story to life. Without her feedback and support, the story would not be what it is today.
> 
> You can find her original art post on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6725719
> 
> This is a true AU. Apparently, I'm still on my kick. This is set somewhere in the earlier seasons (likely around 5 - 6). Tony is a Hollywood megastar with numerous blockbusters under his belt (think a younger Bruce Willis or Bradley Cooper), while Tim is an agent/writer with his book up for a movie deal.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title art and companion piece created by penumbria.

**HOLLYWOOD** – Fans of Thom E. Gemcity’s DEEP SIX book will be excited to hear that the long-awaited movie adaptation was finally greenlit for production last week. Rumors are running rampant over who will be cast as the lead, Liam MacGregor. It is being speculated (by sources reliable to this reporter) that Hollywood heartthrob and megastar, Tony DiNozzo, is being considered for the leading role.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:34am – A Tuesday in October – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC – Bullpen –**

Supply and inventory reports for office supplies appear in rapid-fire succession across Tim McGee’s computer screen. He dips deeper into the secure Navy server just long enough to retrieve the past six month’s ordering history for the Norfolk base.

_I don’t know why we didn’t just wait for the warrant._

Paper clips and rubber bands seem so far below his paygrade—and his skillset—these days. After years of working heinous murders and kidnappings, the three months spent hunting down rerouted ballpoint pens and AWOL sailors has cost Tim his sense of urgency—and most of his sanity. 

He almost finds himself praying for a murder. _Almost._

_I bet the rest of the team has to feel the same way._

“Do you have anything yet, McGee?” Senior Field Agent Carolyn Bullock barks.

His ears flush. “I’m getting there, ma’am.”

Her huff that tells him that he isn’t working fast enough, that he never works fast enough.

She stands in the middle of the bullpen with her hands on her hips. Her steel grey eyes focus on the plasma as though she could will Tim’s information onto it. Her taut, short body is poised to strike—and rip his head off—if he even breathes a word that isn’t related to results. He wishes he had the balls to tell her that he needs the help, that he can’t cross reference all these pens and pencils alone.

But he isn’t one to speak up, especially when it involves ratting out Ziva David. Across the bullpen, she pretends to be hard at work on the project Tim requested. But he can tell by the way her eyes narrow at her computer screen that she isn’t bothering to double-check the counts of how many paper clips lie in the Naval coffers right now.

_She’s probably comparing notes on the best way to kill people with her assassin friends._

Making a face, he turns back to his computer just in time to notice that someone from NCIS Cybercrimes is tracking his attack.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself.

Tim scrambles to post a dummy IP address to confuse the white hat. Then he closes out the connection, hoping to hell and back that the basement dwellers don’t discover that the attacker works upstairs. As soon as he is done, he sends everything he found to Abby so she can do Ziva’s job.

He shoots her a quick e-mail, _I owe you big time._

Her reply comes instantaneously, _You bet your sweet ass, you do._

He slumps back in his seat and takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He shouldn’t have come so close to being caught. Hell, he shouldn’t have even raised any alarm bells. He manages to regularly poke around undetected in the CIA and NSA databases. And now, he is alerting the state school graduates in Cybercrimes to his activities while cracking codes that he wrote.

_Without a real case, I’m going soft._

When Carolyn turns around, her chestnut hair just grazes the bit of collarbone peeking out of her sensible, button-down shirt. Her eyes laser on him. Tim tends to forget that Carolyn is beautiful in that ‘woman who could use you up without a second thought’ kind of way until she looks at him _like that._

Tim loses his breath.

“Finally find something, McGee?” she asks.

“Close, ma’am.” He leaves out the part about getting tagged by Cybercrimes. “I just need to cross reference the supply numbers. If I could get some help…” he smiles at her hopefully “…it would go a whole lot faster.”

With a disinterested nod, Carolyn heads to her desk. “I’ll start with the background checks on the sailors who do the ordering.”

Tim bites his lip. “I haven’t gotten that far, Bullock. I just got the orders transferred to my computer. We still don’t know who – “

“That’s it? I thought you could - ” she waves her hand dismissively, obviously not understanding anything that he does “ – make the computer do it for you.”

His cheeks grow hot. “Accessing the files took longer than I thought. Then I had to – “

“Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Cross-check what’s listed in the store room against the supply orders. I pulled the past six months. If we each take a few, we’ll be done before lunch. Then – “

Carolyn smiles. “We’ll get the dirtbag in ‘cuffs so I won’t miss my dinner date _again._ I’ll take the most recent two months. McGee, you take the middle two. And Ziva, you’re on the first two. Got it?”

Ziva sets her jaw. “I will get to it.”

Tim makes a mental note to run her two months when he finishes his own. Sighing, he dives back into the number crunching and cross referencing. Scores of manila file folders, paper clips, and loose leaf paper went missing in June and July. He still has no idea why the fuck anyone would be bothered to steal so many office supplies unless they were opening their own Office Depot.

Before long, his cell phone trills. His heart lifts at the thought that Abby finished everything for them, that Carolyn might actually be right about them leaving work before dinnertime.

The screen flashes with a text from Lindy Crenshaw, his literary agent.

_She must have some big news about my book! I still can’t believe they’re turning it into a movie!_

Tim hides the phone under his desk as though Ziva and Carolyn could read it clear across the bullpen.

Lindy’s text pops up, _Have I got a surprise for you, Mr. McGee._

His heart plummets.

_What the hell does that mean?_

Did the studio drop his book adaptation from next year’s Christmas Day line-up? Did the new director back out like the last one? Could his next book offer be off the table with his publisher?

Or maybe the studio finally decided to offer him and Lindy more money like she demanded.

_Yes, that has to be it!_

Excitement gets the better of him and Tim struggles to compose himself. His fingers still shake as he composes his text, _That’s great, Lindy. What’s going on?_

When she doesn’t reply instantly, he fights the urge to hurl his phone.

Across the bullpen, Carolyn perks up. “Was that Abby?” Tim shakes his head. “Was it case related?” Again, he shakes his head. “Personal crisis?” Once again, no. “Then back to work, McGee.”

He turns back to his computer. “On it, ma’am.”

With a self-satisfied smirk, Carolyn turns back to her computer. Ziva huffs a laugh without looking up from her e-mails.

Every part of Tim wishes that Carolyn would snap her fingers and yell for Ziva to get to work too. But they share a bond forged by too-much estrogen, radical feminism and a burning hatred of all men who aren’t Gibbs. He also suspects that the Carolyn is just afraid of the Ziva as everyone else. Despite all of Carolyn’s posturing and grand-standing, when push comes to shove, she only ever shoves Tim.

Someday, he’ll tell Carolyn where she can stick her orders. Someday. Just not today.

Without a second thought, he trudges through his work. He keeps one eye on his phone as covertly as possible. Whenever Carolyn catches him, he just smiles apologetically and mouths, _Waiting on Abby._

She probably doesn’t believe him, but who the hell cares? His book is being turned into a movie and right now, he just has to know what his agent’s surprise is.

He fights the urge to bombard Lindy with texts for hours.

The morning plods along until right before lunch, Carolyn and Ziva take a vote for who gets to run to the deli on the corner. As always, Tim gets handed a complex list of organic tofu wraps, side salads, and kale chips. If he is lucky, he’ll steal a few minutes to stop by the Chinese place on the way. But in the end, he is always thankful for a few moments to escape the orange walls and estrogen overload.

Just as he shrugs on his trench coat, the elevator doors ding open.

Director Leon Vance’s voice carries all the way to the bullpen. Based on his tone, he is probably entertaining an ambassador or a head of state or trying to figure out how much ass he can kiss. “…as you already know. Our best and brightest agents are part of the Major Crimes Response Team or for short, the – “

“MCRT,” an unfamiliar male voice interrupts.

Vance laughs, a little fake, a little forced. “Very good. I’m glad to see that you’ve been paying attention on my tour.”

“What can I say? I did a lot of research before I got here.”

Tim peers over his cubicle wall to stare at the tall, dark-haired man conversing with Vance by the elevator. The man wears a black designer suit with a sheen that makes it glow underneath the overhead lights like it’s from another world. A smart grey wool overcoat is slung over the crook of his arm.

When the man glances over, Tim thinks he recognizes the stranger’s good-looks and shit-eating grin, but he can’t place them for the life of him. He spends so much time staring at mugshots that’s all he recognizes anymore, but the stranger looks like he’d fit in better on a movie poster than the Most Wanted Wall.

Vance nods. “Well, that concludes the formal tour of NCIS. Would you like to meet the team?”

The man’s smile broadens. “You bet, Director.”

After Vance gestures for the man to follow, the pair move into the bullpen. Carolyn glances up with anger storming across her features…until she seems to recognize the man. Almost instantly, her mouth gapes and her face turns as red as her shirt. Even Ziva looks interested in the stranger.

_Were they expecting a witness that no one told me about?_

Suddenly, Carolyn jumps to her feet. “Tony DiNozzo is here…in the bullpen. With us. With me!” Then, she straightens her shirt, manages to say a little more sanely: “Tony, I loved you in that remake of _Pride and Prejudice._ You were just brilliant as Mr. Darcy. And don’t even get me started on your part in _Anna Karenina.”_  

_Tony DiNozzo? Why does that name sound so familiar?_

Tony smiles politely as though a drooling fangirl is nothing new. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too, Agent….?”

“Bullock, but you can call me Carolyn.” She schools her face into the sexiest expression she can manage as she holds her hand out.

“Charmed, Agent Bullock.” When he kisses the back of her hand, she looks like she might just pass out.  

Her mouth twitches into an awkward—bordering on crazed—smile. “Do you mind saying that line? The famous one from _Up All Night?”_

“Oh, you mean – “ Tony’s kind eyes darken as he schools his face into a sneer “— _Zippity-doo-da, you motherfu – “_ When Tim clears his throat, Tony switches gears. “Oh, Thom, I am so glad to finally meet you. I must say that I’m a _huge_ fan of your book.”

And that’s the moment Tim wishes a meteor would wipe them all off the face of the earth.

But he isn’t that lucky.

His legs give way and he tumbles back into his chair. He feels like he’s floating somewhere up around the ceiling, watching his private and personal lives hurdle towards each other like speeding trains. Soon enough, there will be nothing left of his life but twisted bits of flaming wreckage.

Tim swallows hard.

Carolyn glances over with her furrowed brow. Ziva abandons her e-mail in favor of staring Tim down.  

“That isn’t me,” he chokes out. “I’m Tim McGee.”

“Well here, I’m sure you are. But you’re the author Thom E. Gemcity too, right?” Tony’s eyebrow jumps when Tim doesn’t come clean. “I recognize you from your dustjacket. Plus, your agent said that I’d find you at work. I thought we could speak about the part for the movie adaptation of your book.”

When Carolyn and Ziva share a confused glance, Tim struggles not to panic. No matter how much he wants to, he doubts that would get him anywhere right now.  

“Maybe…we should...” he gestures between himself and Tony “…talk in private?”

But Tony isn’t listening because he is busy marveling at the bullpen’s mundane computer monitors, the ancient metal desks, and the giant plasma. He holds his arms out as he steps deeper into the space; his face is full of awe like he just saw the stars for the first time.

“It’s perfect. Everything here is exactly how you described it, Thom.” He clears his throat, shoots Tim an apologetic glance. “I mean, Agent McGee. You really captured the essence of the office, even right down to the walls. How did you describe them again?”

Those walls are staring to close in on him. “Orange.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tony nods. “‘The walls were so orange that MacGregor believed he lived in the land of perpetual sunset.’ Really riveting stuff. I could barely put the book down.”

Tim mumbles, “Thank you,” to himself.  

Tony stops by Ziva’s desk. “You must be Officer Lisa Davis.”

“I am afraid that you are mistaken.” Ziva’s eyes harden as she glances up at him. “I am Ziva David, a liaison from Mossad.”

“Mossad.” He exhales with a flourish. “That is so much sexier than a Lebanese super spy.”

She cocks her head. “What do you mean?”

“Lisa Davis? The female lead from _Deep Six._ Her father was American and her mother was the director of the Lebanese secret service. She grew up there to become a member of their special ops team.” When Ziva shrugs hopelessly, Tony throws Tim a shocked glance. “Did you not tell your friends about your novel, Agent McGee?”

“It would seem that he did not,” Ziva says.

“Your agent said it was based on real life, but – “ Tony lets out a low whistle “ – damn, I feel like I walked into a living, breathing set for your novel.”

Ziva narrows her eyes at Tim. She reaches for a pen on her desk, grips it like she might just plunge it into the side of Tim’s neck. Swallowing hard, he readjusts his collar to hide his jugular.

Tim sputters: “Very loosely. Maybe, if you squint really hard. Look, it’s not…it’s not…it’s just…I made it all up. Every single thing is made up.” He barks an awkward laugh. “I write to clear my mind, so that I can sleep. Everyone needs sleep, right?”

At that moment, Jethro Gibbs appears at the edge of the bullpen.

“You wrote a book, McGee?” he growls.

Tim’s voice suddenly forsakes him; so he just nods. When Tony stares at Gibbs like he examines a scientific specimen, Tim wishes the floor would swallow him whole.

“You must be L.J. Tibbs.” Tony offers his hand. “Tony DiNozzo.”

He doesn’t move. “It’s Gibbs. And you are here to?”

“Observe and learn about my subject.” Tony gestures towards Tim. “I need to understand the inspiration behind Liam MacGregor in order to truly become him in the film.”

“Not on my time.”

Vance clears his throat. “Too late, Agent Gibbs. I decided a good opportunity for our agency to gain some positive press. You know, get some quality recruits from the publicity. I believe it’s the same reason that my predecessor granted Agent McGee permission to publish his book a few years ago.”

“Years ago?” Gibbs repeats.

“Yes, and you three should get your hands on a copy. It’s very well-written and quite…” Vance seems to search for the appropriate phrase “…true to life.” When Vance’s cell phone rings, he checks it. “I need to handle this. But I trust you’re in good hands, Mr. DiNozzo?”

Tony nods emphatically. “Thank you again, Director Lance.”

Vance laughs, but doesn’t bother to correct him. And just like that, the one person who could keep Gibbs, Carolyn, and Ziva from murdering Tim in the middle of the bullpen disappears up the stairs.

Tim doesn’t need to look at Gibbs to feel the laser stare that bores a hole straight through him. He fiddles with his pen holder, pushing all of the colored ones to the left and all black ones to the right. Neatness and order in the presence of chaos will grant him clarity. Or so all of his self-help CDs promise. When a red one dives back into the black pile, he almost loses it.

_So much for being Zen. So much for ‘finding my calm in the storm of my discontent.’_

Holding his breath, Tim waits for his execution. 

“Got a body in Rock Creek Park,” Gibbs announces, heading for his desk. “Grab your gear.”

Carolyn and Ziva reach into the desks for their badges and service weapons while Tim watches them silently. Perhaps, he realizes, there are worse things than a quick death…like waiting until your boss decides when is the right time to dispatch you.

Staring at the team with rapt attention, Tony slides out of the way. His cautious and steady eyes absorb every detail in the way the three of them move in tandem, holstering their weapons and slinging backpacks over their shoulders. Tony practices clipping a holster to his suit pants with his empty hand.

Gibbs is halfway of the bullpen when he yells: “Look alive, McGee!”

“What about…what about…” Tim barely recovers long enough to point at Tony. “What about him?”

“You made your bed,” Gibbs calls.

Ziva snickers. “Now, you have to sleep in it.”

“Nice try, Zee-vah.” Tony chuckles. “The saying is, ‘you’ve made your bed, so lie in it.’”

She shrugs. “It is close enough.”

Carolyn lingers by the entrance of the bullpen as though she isn’t sure whether she should catch up with her boss or spend more time ogling Tony.

“Move your asses!” Gibbs yells from the elevator.

Springing to life, Carolyn and Ziva dart towards the elevator. Tim doesn’t bother to try to make the ride because he doesn’t want to be trapped in a confined space with three people who believe he just wrote a book about them—even though he didn’t. So he takes a long time to reach into his desk for his weapon, badge, spare magazine, creds, and back-pack.

Once he finishes, he is surprised to find Tony patiently waiting for him.

“I think it’s safer to take the stairs,” Tim says.

“It’s good exercise,” Tony replies like he’s trying to be nice.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Tim, do you think I could get some of my own gear to try out?”

Tim pushes his backpack into Tony’s arms. “Feel free to use mine.”

Tony stops in the middle of the hallway and throws the bag of his shoulder. “This is so cool.”

Then he mirrors Gibbs’ purposeful stride all the way to the stairs. Dumbfounded, Tim just scrubs his hand across his face.

 _How am I supposed to get through today?_  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**EXCLUSIVE** – Tony DiNozzo was just spotted leaving Dulles Airport in Washington, DC. No one is quite sure what took the superstar to our nation’s capital. Could the self-proclaimed history buff have a hankering for some knowledge and culture at the Smithsonian? Or maybe his inner foodie is in the mood to try out the city’s—and possibly, the nation’s—hottest, new restaurant, _La Maison Ecru_?

Or is he there for a more personal reason?

Rumor has it that he is trying to win back his ex-girlfriend, Jeanne Benoit, who is there filming her new movie, _Untimely Demise._ After her tryst with that director and her and Tony DiNozzo’s nasty break-up last year, it would be a shame to see him go crawling back to her.

Stay tuned for updates about Tony DiNozzo’s movements around the Federal City as we try to figure out exactly what he’s up to.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:15pm – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC – Garage –**

By the time Tim and Tony reach the garage, the team is long gone with the NCIS van. So Tim checks out an agency car. He swears up and down to the security guard that the man with him is just a friend of the Vance family interning with the MCRT, not the international super star Tony DiNozzo. Tim almost believes he got away with it until the security guard asks Tony to sign the cover of his _People_ magazine.

Mercifully, mid-day traffic is light on the way to Rock Creek Park and Tim hits every green light. Tony sits in the passenger seat, grimly studying the world outside the window. Tim is too preoccupied with figuring out what he’ll do with Tony at the crime scene to break the silence.

When Tim hangs a left on a bustling city street, Tony lets out a labored sigh like he wants to talk about something, anything, and everything at the same time.

Tim takes the bait. “What?”

“Is this what it feels like on the way to a….” Tony can’t bring himself to finish.

“A murder?” Tim has no idea what Tony could be feeling. So he goes with: “I guess.”

Tony half-nods, turns his attention back to the outside world. It’s nothing but slate grey buildings and pedestrians in a quaint cityscape that Tim never bothers to look at anymore.  

Tony sighs quietly. “I just feel like I’m with Samwise Gamgee on my way to Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring. I feel like nothing will ever be the same again. Like _I’ll_ never be the same again.”  

Tim tilts his head. “I didn’t know you were in _The Lord of the Rings.”_

“I wasn’t, but I’m a huge Tolkien fan.” Tony sighs again. “Right now, I’m just trying to get into the mindset of an investigator on their way to a crime scene. I never thought it could feel so...” He makes a face before settling on “…overwhelming. Terrifying. Daunting.”

Tim shrugs. “The more you do it, the easier it gets.”

“What do you mean?”

Tim stays quiet for a long time. “Maybe you could say that you grow numb to the blood, to the smell of death. To the bodies, to the perps, to everything. I felt a lot like you say in the beginning. Then, one day, I decided that I wouldn’t let it get under my skin anymore.”

Tony glances over as though Tim has lost his mind—or his humanity.

Tim half-smiles. “I think I learned that if I don’t hunt down these people, no one else will. I need to do this job for that reason. Regardless of how it makes me feel.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Tony leans back in the seat. “Now, I see why Tibbs drinks gin in his garage while rebuilding antique cars.”

The color drains from Tim’s face. “Do me a favor and don’t mention that. Please.”

“Will do.”

And with that, silence rolls over them. Tim turns on the radio and lets the soft jazz music serve as their conversation while Tony stares out the window, ruminating.

Before long, the concrete doldrums of the city give way to a lush grass-filled respite from the drudgeries of everyday city life. Tim guns the engine as soon as they hit the park. The trees of Rock Creek Park are abandoning their summer greens in favor of autumn’s vibrant reds and oranges and yellows. Joggers and families with strollers in bright colors speckle the landscape like misplaced Easter eggs.

Tim traces the back roads through the park, hoping that he’ll find the van sooner rather than later since no one bothered to tell him where the body was. He picks Beach Road because it tends to be where most dead petty officers turn up. If Gibbs taught him one thing about dirtbags, it’s that they are creatures of habit preferring to ditch corpses in the same place. It’s almost like the location is listed in their secret dirtbag handbook.

Tim’s gamble pays off when he finds the NCIS van about a mile down the road. He recognizes the place from a case they worked several months ago: dead Marine off a popular hiking trail.

After he pulls the sedan up behind the NCIS van, Tony mechanically climbs out of the car. He moves like a man under threat of death as Tim waves him to the back of the van. Once he pulls on a standard issue NCIS hat and warm-up jacket, Tony looks like he might just be able to pass as a federal agent. Tim zips up his own cover-up, reminds himself that he needs more than a few minutes with someone to decide whether they’re the right fit for the main character in his movie.

Tim steps to the edge of the woods. He closes his eyes, strains his ears for any trace of his team.

Just off the trail to the right, he catches the sound of rustling leaves.

“Let’s go,” he says.

Tony falls in step with Tim as they head into the woods. “How do you know where they’ll be?”

“I’ve been doing this for a while.” Tim smiles half-heartedly. “I’m the only guy who works with Gibbs and a bunch of women. I tend to get left behind a lot.”

Tony nods sympathetically. When they move deeper into the forest, the bright afternoon sunlight can’t penetrate the leaves to the world below. They are plunged into near darkness and the world around them is dead silent. Tony crowds closer as though Tim might bolt off and ditch him in the woods. The stillness and Tony breathing down his neck sets Tim’s nerves on edge.

The men find the team just where Tim thought they would be.

Beyond a break in the tree line at the edge of a clearing, Carolyn and Gibbs crouch over a prone form a man in service khakis. Ziva stands over them with the camera slung around her neck.

When Tony stops, Tim grabs his arm to drag him over to the body.

“And whatever you do,” Tim whispers, “don’t throw up.”

Already an inhuman shade of white, Tony tries to follow the advice as he gags into the back of his hand. When they pause by Gibbs and Carolyn, Tony stares at the sky, at the team, at the trees, anything to avoid looking at the corpse. But Tim doesn’t think the crime scene even comes close to the gruesomeness of most of their cases.

The victim is a young man in Naval khakis with hair as black as the wet earth beneath him. If it weren’t for the dozen paper clips protruding from his neck and the rivers of blood on his porcelain skin, Tim might not believe the man were actually dead. No matter how much Ziva likes to espouse their versatility, Tim doubts that the office supplies are the true cause of death.

“Is that guy dead?” Tony swallows hard. “Like really dead?”

“As a doornail,” Carolyn says conversationally. “McGee, Tony meet Ensign Billy Williams. Preliminary cause of death are the paper clips to the carotid. Ducky’ll be here any minute to confirm.”

“Billy Williams.” Tony makes a face. “So his real name was William Williams?”

“Yeah.” Carolyn glances up. “So what?”

“His parents must not have liked him or been very unimaginative.” When Carolyn squints at him like she doesn’t follow, he continues: “It’d be like you being named Bullock Bullock or – “ he gestures to Ziva “ – David David – “ or he looks at Gibbs “ – well, you’d probably just go by Gibbs.”

Gibbs’ face remains impassive. “Are you done, DiNozzo?”

“Quite.”

From her position behind the camera, Ziva snorts.

Gibbs perks up. “You got an opinion, David?”

“Actually, I was thinking what it would be like to be named David David since I am a woman. But that is a different matter for another time. However, I would like to point out that the murderer used far too many paper clips. All it would take is one right – “ she slings the camera around her neck and points a place right below her jawline “—here to be effective. This is what I believe you might call ‘overdraft.’”

“Overkill,” Tony corrects. Then he leans to whisper in Tim’s ear: “Now I get why Agent Lisa always carries around a letter opener in her purse. Nice back-up weapon, huh?”

Gibbs gestures to the body. “How about instead of critiquing his method, we catch the bastard?”

“That sounds great,” Tony says like he really means it.

“Bullock, sketch. Ziva, pictures. McGee, bag and tag.” Gibbs rolls his eyes. “And take the Duke with you.”

Tim blinks. “Who?”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs barks.

With a nod, Tim scurries for the evidence kit. Tony lingers by Tim’s side, watching him meticulously go through the contents of the case.

Tony whistles. “I’ve never been called that before.”

“Called what?”

“The Duke.” When Tim’s brow furrows, Tony makes a face. “You know, John Wayne.” Tim just shrugs. “Oh come on, Tim, do you live under a rock or something? He was only one of the most famous actors of all time. He made all of these old Westerns and war movies. I’m just surprised Gibbs called me that.  Usually, people just refer to me as a ‘new and improved version of Robert Wagner.’”

The furrow in Tim’s brow deepens even further. “Who’s that?”

Tony sighs like no one ever understands him. “Never mind.”

Gibbs looks up. “If you two are done with your pillow talk, get to work.”

Tim jumps to join the team in their well-rehearsed moves. Carolyn collects her sketchpad from her backpack while Ziva moves around the scene to take photographs. Tim reaches into the evidence kit for a pile of plastic bags and two pairs of latex gloves. He pulls on a pair. Then he passes the others to Tony, who just stuffs them into his pocket.

Tim carefully picks his way through the leaves, stopping occasionally to pick up something that might be useful. Tony hangs a little too close for Tim’s comfort. He mirrors the way Tim stoops to feel the earth as though he could force it give up its secrets by sheer will.

“What do you think we’ll find?” Tony asks quietly.

Tim shrugs. “Hopefully, something useful.”  

“Like a cigarette teeming with DNA? Or a murder weapon covered in bloody fingerprints?”

“Something like this.” Tim stoops to pick up the wrapper from a Twix bar. “It could be useful.”

Tony’s face falls. “Litter is useful?”

“It’s only litter if the killer didn’t eat it.”

Pressing his lips together, Tony takes a long moment to consider Tim’s idea. “But if he did, then it’s evidence.”

“Yeah. And if we get a print off of it, we could break the case wide open.”

As Tim bags the wrapper, Tony stares at it like it could be the Holy Grail. “I never would have thought trash could be so important.”

“You know, Tony, real life isn’t quite as exciting as novels.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Tim.” Tony bends over to pick up an empty Skittles bag. “I think it’s pretty cool.”

Tim grins. “Thanks.”

Nodding, Tony turns back to watch Gibbs’ interactions with the team. When Gibbs crouches over the body, Tony mimics the action and begins to pantomime giving the team orders. Tim bites back a laugh, thinking Tony might actually be a bit more like how he pictures Tibbs than MacGregor.

When Gibbs catches them, he yells: “Get back to work, DiNozzo! This isn’t summer camp!”

Tony mirrors the motion. Gibbs’s features darken like he might just shoot them both, but Carolyn taps his arm and draws his attention back to the body.

Tim dives into trash detail. By the time he and Tony work their way back to the body, they’ve uncovered nine candy wrappers, one clean paper clip, and more cigarette butts than he feels like cataloguing. Whoever killed their ensign must be a chain smoker. Or teenagers prefer this spot to work on developing lung cancer.

Tim and Tony start to move away from the body to the opposite side of the clearing when an impending commotion catches their attention. The familiar sound of bickering and crunching leaves echo from the woods. Tony cranes his neck for a better view. 

“For the love of G-d, Mr. Palmer, will you just give me the map? For all I know, you might be leading me on the same course to the Pacific as Lewis and Clark.” Donald Mallard doesn’t bother to hide the frustration in his voice.

“I’m sorry, doctor,” Palmer says. “The map is turned the right way this time, I swear.”

Ducky huffs. “That was what you said last time, Mr. Palmer.”

“I know, but I’m right this time. I just know it.”

Seconds later, the forms of the medical examiner and his assistant break through the tree line. Even though he is weighed down by their bags of equipment, Palmer holds up a map in one hand and a compass in the other. Ducky brings up the rear with his medical bag.

“See? I told you I was right.” Palmer gestures at the team as though it proves his point.

“After you took us on a detour through Alexandria and almost to Delaware.”

“It was the scenic route.”

“That I am most sure of, Mr. Palmer.” With an exasperated eye roll, Ducky joins Gibbs and Bullock by the body.

Next to Tim, Tony lets out an excited exhalation. “Oh my G-d, Goosey and Pimmy Jalmer exist just like Tibbs and Lisa.”

Tim fights the urge to bury his face in his hands and scream.

Ducky glances over. “Oh, it appears we have a visitor today.”

Growling, Gibbs narrows his eyes at Tim and Tony. “Vance is pulling a PR stunt.”

“Ah, sometimes they can be most beneficial.” Ducky extends a gloved hand. “Dr. Donald Mallard.”

He doesn’t shake it. “Tony DiNozzo. Nice to meet you.”

Ducky’s eyes widen. “Are you _the_ Tony DiNozzo?”

“The one and only,” he says, grinning. “Unless you count my father on Long Island.”

“Well, a hearty welcome to Washington, Mr. DiNozzo. We are quite happy to have you here working with us today. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

When Gibbs lets out another growl, Carolyn steps in. “McGee wrote a book about all of us and Tony DiNozzo is here to try out for a role. Does that about sum it up, McGee?”

Tim takes a full step back. “It isn’t quite like that. None of the story is based on real life.”

“Oh come on, McGee, do you think we’re that stupid? I looked it up on my phone on the way here. You’ve got Agent Lisa Davis, L.J. Tibbs, and Director Neon Lance. Not to mention, the super-agent, Liam MacGregor.  It sounds a hell of a lot like you wrote about the rest of the team.” Narrowing her eyes at him, Carolyn squares her shoulders. “Or should I say Thom E. Gemcity?”

“But…but…but there’s no Agent Tommy DeNiro.” Tim’s voice jumps an octave. “He doesn’t exist. So my entire book is a work of fiction.”

“Fiction, my ass. It sounds like Tommy’s only there because you didn’t bother to put me in the book.”

Based on the anger in Carolyn’s eyes, Tim is pretty sure that he’s a dead man. He decides not to tell her that her character didn’t survive the first round of edits because his agent hated her. Unbelievable and annoying and an outright bitch is what Lindy called the original character of Caroline Bollocks.

“You’re not in it because it’s fiction,” Tim says. “None of you guys are in it.”

Carolyn huffs.

Tony doesn’t look quite convinced either. “But Tim, your medical examiner’s name is Ronald Landrace and everyone calls him Goosey. And don’t forget about Pimmy –  ”

“Ah, the Danish Landrace,” Ducky interrupts. “Quite the wonderful fowl native to Denmark. It is thought to have been a very important food source for the Vikings. Their stiff feathers are quite useful for steering feathers on arrows, which – “

Gibbs clearing his throat shuts the doctor up. For the first time in his career, Tim wishes Ducky had a chance to finish the story.

“Always business with you it seems, Jethro.” Ducky offers Tony a sad smile. “It seems that we will have to finish our conversation another time, Mr. DiNozzo. Come by autopsy later.”

“Yes, we will and I look forward to it.”

Tim wonders whether Tony knows that’s where they store the bodies.

After Ducky drops into a crouch, he takes a moment to carefully study the corpse. Tony lingers over his shoulder, more interested in the medical examiner’s movements than the pale, sun drenched face of the dead man. When the liver probe makes an appearance, Tony turns an impressive shade of green.

“What’ve we got, Duck?” Gibbs asks, impatiently.

“The poor young lad appears to have been stabbed in the neck with paper clips,” Ducky explains. Gibbs exhales to tell him that it’s something they already know. “I believe cause of death to be exsanguination from the puncture wounds to the jugular. Death would have taken quite some time.”

“How long?”

“An hour. Perhaps more.” Ducky repositions the corpse’s head to expose a crater and bloodied mess at the base of his neck. “This blow to the back of the skull may have rendered the victim unconscious while he bled out. If not, it’s possible that blunt force trauma could have been cause of death.”

Gibbs half-nods. “Got a time?”

Ducky lifts the corpse’s shirt and plunges the liver probe into the abdomen. Next to him, Tony gags and Tim tries his best not to laugh.

“Given liver temperature and lividity, I would expect time of death to have been yesterday morning. Sometime likely between ten and noon. After I get him back, we’ll know more.”  

At that moment, Palmer materializes between Tony and Tim. “Doctor, have you considered that his work schedule might have been killer?” Tony laughs while Gibbs glares up at the assistant. Palmer jerks his head back towards the woods. “You know what, I think I should probably go get the gurney. If we want to get him, you know, the body back to autopsy.”

Ducky doesn’t bother to look up. “That would be prudent, Mr. Palmer.”

After Palmer disappears back into the woods, Tim heads away from the body to finish sweeping for evidence. Tony joins him.

“So that guy – “ Tony’s face drops into a deathly pallor as he gestures to the woods “ – he doesn’t…you know. With – “ he points to the body “ – the dead guy when they’re alone, does he?”

Tim stares at him blankly, clearly waiting for Tony to say the word: necrophilia. And Tim knows it was a stupid thing to add to his novel, but his agent swore up and down that the story needed some—what did she call it? Oh yeah, panache—to make the characters jump off the page.

Shifting his weight, Tony drops his voice. “That part was made up right? Because everything else is...”

“Fiction, it’s all fiction! And yes, Jimmy will assist Ducky with the autopsy and when it’s done, he’ll prepare the body for transfer to the family.”

Tony’s expression turns relieved. “Good, that’s great. I mean, that job is important.”

Rolling his eyes, Tim continues to sweep through the fallen leaves for anything relevant to their case. With the deep shit that he is in with the team, he needs to find something that will close this case before the end of the day. That way, he’ll be the hero that got them out of yet another all-nighter. Behind him, Tony rummages through the leaves like a homeless man in a dumpster.

Tim sighs.

_How long will it take to get off everyone’s shit list?_

Suddenly, Tony gives a surprised exhalation. Tim whirls around to find him holding a bloodied claw hammer and wearing a grin like he’s the great hero in an action flick.  

“Look what I found!” Tony whoops.

Everyone the team cranes their neck to check out the movie star holding their murder weapon in the middle of the crime scene. That’s when Tim notices Tony isn’t wearing his gloves.

Tim grabs an evidence bag, scrambles to intercept Tony. But he won’t stop touching the handle with his bare hands, contaminating the hilt of the hammer as he shows off his prize.

“Tony, I need that,” Tim begs. “That’s evidence. You might be compromising the fingerprints or…”

Tim keeps rambling, but Tony isn’t listening. Instead, the movie star shows off the weapon to Carolyn, who stares at him like he’s on the red carpet and not fucking up their case.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs bellows.

Tony freezes, eyes growing wide.

“Give the weapon to McGee! Now!” After Tony complies, Tim breathes a sigh of relief. It doesn’t last long. “Now, get your asses back to NCIS to get DiNozzo fingerprinted. Then you’re going to close our office supply case while we work the murder, McGee.”

Tim just hangs his head. “On it, boss.”

After Tim gathers up their evidence, he and Tony head back through the woods towards the car. Once they’re safely away, Tony grins like whatever the hell just happened was part of his plan all along.

“So this means I get to meet Amy, right?”


	3. Chapter 3

**HOLLYWOOD** – The first role has officially been cast for the DEEP SIX movie. Jamison Paul reportedly accepted the titular role of handsome, tough as nails team leader, LJ Tibbs. After securing such a high profile lead and director, the movie is sure to be a hit. Several top actresses are now clamoring to play the parts of Lebanese superspy, Lisa Davis, and forensics technician, Amy Sutton.

Expect more news in the following weeks. If only we could confirm out whether Tony DiNozzo has been chosen to play the geeky agent with a heart of gold, Liam MacGregor or lady’s man Agent Tommy DeNiro. Hopefully, you’re like us here and don’t care which part he takes as long as he is in the movie.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:43pm – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC – Forensics Lab –**

Hidden away in Abby’s lab, Tim sits on a lab stool as he pretends to be searching for a lead on the case of the missing office supplies. But he isn’t really paying attention to the thousands of paper clips that disappeared over the summer. Instead, he is busy spying on Tony and Abby Scuito.

Jealousy worms his way through him as he watches how she shameless flirts with the movie star. Maybe it’s the way she caresses Tony’s long fingers as she dips them into the ink to take exclusion prints that drives Tim crazy. Or perhaps it’s because she checks out Tony’s ass every time she thinks he isn’t looking that makes Tim boil with rage.

He presses his lips together, feels more than a little jilted.

Part of him thinks he should over there and break them, maybe dump Tony up in the conference room as ‘research’ for the part—hell, MacGregor does host interviews up there.

But just under the dull thump of Abby’s gothic rock, Tim barely makes out Tony’s end of the conversation. He talks a blue streak about how great Tim’s book is, raves about the intricacies of the plot details, and how he just can’t wait to play the part of MacGregor. Which Tony is pretty sure that Tim will give him because, well, he is such a great guy after all.

_Maybe if Abby hears how nice I am from someone like Tony, she might just figure it out for herself._

Abby sneaks a peek at Tony’s ass again. Tim sighs

_Fat chance._

He makes a mental note to consider a romance between Amy Sutton and Liam MacGregor in the sequel to _Deep Six_ because he always wanted find out what he and Abby could’ve been. What better way to explore the impossible than through written words?  

Tim reaches up on the lab shelf to retrieve her farting hippo. When he plops the plush down on the bench, the toy expresses his sympathies at Abby picking Tony over Tim. He is so deeply involved in his pity party that he doesn’t notice Abby and Tony until she throws her arms around his neck. Her soft skin grazes his cheek and he melts into her, loses himself in the moment.

“Oh, Timmy, why didn’t you tell me that you like to write?” she crows. “I can’t imagine how long it must have taken to write a whole book. Hours and hours and hours, I bet. How did you even find time with how busy Gibbs keeps you with cases?”

He doesn’t tell her that he developed a bad addiction to Caf-Pow after they broke up.

So he settles for: “It’s a long story.”

Tony laughs. “Yeah, four-hundred and fifty-three pages to be exact.”

“That’s crazy!” Abby’s eyebrows rise. “I hope I get a chance to read it real soon. But it sounds like there’s going to be a movie, which is even more exciting. So maybe, I’ll just wait to see that instead. You must be thrilled, like over the moon, like ready to explode because you’re going to be famous.”

Tim just wishes his life could go back to normal. “Yeah, it’s great.”

“And just look – “ she gestures at Tony “ – you have a real live celebrity who wants to be in your movie. I’m so excited for you.”

Tim tries to smile. “Thanks.”

Abby hugs him so tight that he can’t even breathe, but he doesn’t really mind. There are far worse ways to die than being bear-hugged by the love of your life. Tony tilts his head, studying them. After a while, he nods like he gets _it._

When her eyes meet Tony’s, her grip tightens around Tim’s neck.

He sputters. “Abs, I can’t breathe.”

She lets him go. “Sorry, I guess I just got so excited thinking about who might play me. I always thought Jeanne Benoit would be the perfect fit. You know she’s so tall, beautiful, and could pull off my wardrobe better than anyone else.”

Tony flinches. “That might not work out well.”

Tim blinks. “Why?” 

“Oh, I forgot that you and Jeanne broke up last year, Tony. I’m sorry.” Making a sheepish face, Abby pulls Bert out of Tim’s hands and offers it to Tony. “Working with your ex can be really, really hard. Timmy and I are lucky that we’re better off friends than boyfriend and girlfriend.”

It’s Tim’s turn to flinch. He turns back to his computer; his cheeks going crimson.

As if sensing the conversation just took an onerous turn, Tony squares his shoulders and sets his jaw. He jerks his head towards the lab set up.

“Whaddya got, Ames?” he asks.

Abby squeals like a schoolgirl. “That’s a great Gibbs impression, Tony.”

“Actually, it’s Tibbs.” Then he tilts his head as though to say _Get on with it._

Tim can’t believe just how well Tony channels Gibbs. Tim’s pulse jumpstarts as though he might get headslapped into the next century for not having every paperclip in the entire Navy accounted for right this freaking second. He fights his own urge to dive back into his own work to avoid his boss’ wrath. 

Nodding curtly, Abby gets down to business. “Well, Tibbs, I haven’t had a chance to get to the evidence that you just brought down. I’m fast, but not that fast. These things take time, real time. However, I did get some information on your missing paper clips and rubber bands. I cross referenced the missing office supplies with the original orders and after I – “

Tony clears his throat.

Abby sticks her tongue out at him. “I guess Tibbs is as much fun as Gibbs. What’s the point of doing magic if I don’t get to reveal my secret?”

“And here I thought a magician never revealed her secrets.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll give you that one.” She shrugs. “I used the information McGee sent me and I was able to find out that a few of the cases of the ordered paper clips were actually diverted to an apartment in an off-base complex. The guy who did it was smart, like real evil genius type of smart. He would order 1000 boxes and have 50 of them sent to him instead. Nobody would miss such a small number at a time, but it all adds up.”

“How many are we talking?”

“Thousands.”

Tony’s eyebrow’s jump. “Where did they end up, Ames?”

“I got an apartment in Southwest that’s probably packed to the rafters with paperclips.” She glances at her computer screens. “And printer paper and staples and pencils and pens. Not the lame ballpoint ones I have here, but the nice clicky ones that Gibbs never lets me get.”

Tim rises from his seat. “Do you have a name?”

Abby shoots him a look. “Would you expect anything less, Timmy?” She brings up a picture of a young blonde man in dress whites against an American flag. His smile is open and earnest like he is accustomed to always being the boy next door. “Meet Peter Michaels, twenty-eight. Petty Officer, third class. Don’t let that sweet face and gorgeous smile mess with your mind, boys. His file shows that this hasn’t been his first theft. He seems to like office supplies for some reason. Not that a good stapler isn’t im – ”

“Why?” Tony asks.

“That’s part of your job, Tibbs. I just tell you the where, when, and who. You two get to figure out the – ”  she waves her gloved hands with fanfare “ – why.”

Tony laughs. “Okay, where are we headed?”

“Already sent you the address.” Shaking her head, she laughs. “Wait. I don’t have your phone number, so I’ll send it to McGee. You know, Tony, you should give me your number. You know, just in case.”

For the first time, Tony breaks character. “Sure. Maybe we could grab a drink sometime.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of bowling. You’d love the sisters.” She shoots Tim a grin. “Plus, I think Timmy would appreciate a little bit more testosterone on league night.”

Tim picks that moment to drag Tony into the hallway.

“Bye, Abby!” he yells over his shoulder.

They stay silent until they’re in the elevator. Once the doors close, Tim narrows his eyes at Tony. Leaning against the elevator wall, Tony crosses his arms and closes his eyes.

“Don't get your panties in a bunch, MacJealous,” he says. “I can totally tell that you’re into her. I was going to settle for one of her sisters. Man, that whole family must be spectacular.”

“You know she means the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart, right?”

“Nuns?” That wipes the dreamy smile right off Tony’s face. “Talk about a damned shame. But maybe it would be nice to spend an afternoon with some women who don’t know who I am. I’ll help you convince Amy…I mean, Abby, to take you back. If that’s what you want. I’ll be your Cyrano.”

Tim pales. “It’s not that obvious…is it?”

“It’s as obvious as you basing your entire novel on yourself and your coworkers. For the record, I knew MacGregor was in love with Amy Sutton in chapter four. They’d better get together in the sequel or I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

Loosening his tie, Tim bites his lip.

“And please don’t cast Jeanne as Amy because that would be awkward.”

Tim gapes for a long moment. “Do you really think that getting the part of MacGregor is a slam dunk?”

“Well, you have the right of first refusal on the actor.” Tony laughs. “So you tell me who you’re going to get to play MacGregor that’s a better choice than me. Thad Lewis is way too old and Mark Wellberg….I’ve met him and well, he’s an asshole. Plus, he won’t get you. At all.”

Tim scoffs. “Like you get me.”

Tony stares at Tim intensely. Then he loosens his tie too and slumps back against the wall of the elevator just the way Tim does. He lets his face turn lovelorn and world weary as he meets Tim’s gaze in the elevator door. A chill traipses down Tim’s spine. It’s almost like looking in a mirror except that he finds a taller, better-looking version of himself staring back.  

“’I tried my best,” Tony says and Tim cringes when he recognizes it as the opening lines of chapter seven, “ ‘to be the best damned agent that I could. But sometimes a case, just like life, gets the better of me. I didn’t mean to kill that man, but I would do it again to protect my team.’ “

Tim’s mouth falls open at how familiar, how real the words sound.

Tony breaks character just long enough to smile. “No, Tim. I don’t get you at all.”  


	4. Chapter 4

**WASHINGTON, DC** – So it turns out that Tony DiNozzo’s trip to our Nation’s capital might be more complex than we originally reported. Online sources show that he was at NCIS Headquarters giving autographs to one of the security guards. No further details were known at posting time, but we will keep you updated as we find out more information about this strange situation. 

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:44pm – 6234 R St. SW, Washington, DC – Southwest Neighborhood – Peter Michaels’ Apartment –**

Tim never understands why Washingtonians waste their time trying to reclaim the past and repurpose—repackage, he decides is a better fit—it into something fancy, shiny, and new. Old crack houses in drug-riddled neighborhoods turned into stunning multi-million dollar townhouses for the sake of gaining ‘property value’, condemned buildings transformed into luxury apartments, and factories becoming industrial-style lofts. Maybe, Tim thinks, it’s better to trade out the old for something brand new.

Tim pulls the Charger up to the curb in front of Peter Michaels’ apartment building.

Worn letters that read _Callahan Silk_ are barely legible through the years of wear on the pock-marked, aging stone above the frosted glass, double doors. The building’s exterior on the first few floors is a sparkling white and their windows are pristine while the upper levels are still a pollution-grey with more broken glass panes than whole. A bright yellow banner advertising _Live Among the Clouds in The Loft of Your Dreams_ flaps haphazardly in the breeze from a broken tether. Decay and rot collides headfirst with some developer’s attempts to recover—repackage—the past.  

Gentrification just seems like a waste of time to Tim. Some neighborhoods, like the rougher pockets of Southwest, are best left untouched. 

Tim puts the car in park to study the building, but Tony draws his attention to the activity on the street corner. Three young men exchange a wad of cash for what looks a hell of a lot like drugs.

“You really know how to show an out of towner a good time,” Tony says.

Tim laughs. “Believe it or not, there are a lot worse places than this.”

“Really?”

“You have no idea.”

Half-nodding, Tony continues to watch the drug deal on the corner. “What do we do about those…” Tony purses his lips “…dirtbags?”

“Forget about them.”

Tony tilts his head. “But why? They’re breaking the law, right?”

“Small fish,” Tim explains. “We’ve got bigger ones to fry and paper clips to find. Plus, those guys are Metro’s problem, not ours.”

When Tony stares at him as though he’s speaking a foreign language, Tim rolls his eyes and climbs out of the car. As soon as Tony follows, Tim locks the sedan behind them. He really hopes that when they get back the Charger won’t be sitting on cinderblocks and missing its tires.

“So let me get this straight,” Tony asks, “you let some criminals go?”

Tim bites the inside of his cheek. “If it means catching an even bigger one, then yes.”

“But MacGregor arrests everyone. Don’t you remember in chapter fifteen when he caught so many criminals that one of them had to sit shotgun?”

“Of course. I wrote that, remember?” Tim crosses his arms. “That’s fiction and this is real life.”

“But – “

“Where are you going to ride when I arrest the entire neighborhood? In the trunk?”

Tony presses his lips together as though he hadn’t considered that possibility. Two of the young men from the drug deal amble towards them. They look barely old enough to know what drugs are, let alone sell them. Tim hits the remote lock on the sedan a few more times.

When they get closer, Tony puffs his chest out. “Afternoon, gentlemen. How are you two doing today?”

Tim holds his breath.

_I’m going to kill Tony. If those guys don’t finish the job first._

The two teenagers stare Tony as though they’re trying to figure out what place his designer suit and expensive Aviator sunglasses have in their world of baggy jeans and oversized hoodies. They share a glance and gesture at Tony, laughing to each other as they size him up. When one of them steps forward, Tim reaches for his Sig and Tony starts to ball up his fists for a fight.

But the teen shakes Tony’s raised hand. Tim and Tony freeze, completely dumbfounded.

“Hey Chris,” the teen drawls, slow and steady, “I told you it’s really Tony Fuckin’ DiNozzo. How the hell are ya, man?”

Relief washes over Tony’s face. “Good…great.”  

“I’m Nate and that’s my buddy, Chris.” When Chris looks like he has no idea what’s going on, Nate punches him in the shoulder. “Don’t you remember that movie last year? The one about the guy who couldn’t fall sleep until he went on a cross country road trip to find that scientist chick to fix him?”

Confusion still flashes in Chris’ eyes. “Yeah…”

Nate slaps a hand against Tony’s back. “This is the guy who stayed up all night!”

Chris tries to grin, but he ends up just baring his teeth at Tony. “Shit man, I loved that movie. It needs a sequel. When is there gonna be a sequel?”

“Maybe,” Tony says, shrugging. “But – “

Chris elbows Nate. “Did you hear that? Man said there’s gonna be a sequel! We better be in the front row on the day that it comes out.”

“Damn straight,” Nate says. “You think you can score us from free tickets?”

“Maybe I could get you an advance showing in jail,” Tony mutters.

Nate tilts his head. “What was that?”

When Tony motions for Tim to swoop in and slap cuffs on them, the agent holds his hands up and shakes his head. If Tony wants to arrest his adoring fans, he is on his own. Tim will provide support to the citizen’s arrest when it turns ugly. But since Chris and Nate stare at Tony like he’s a national hero, Tim suspects they’d follow him straight to jail like rats tailed the Pied Piper right to the river.

Tony shoots Tim a dirty look. “I said I’ll see what I can do, guys.”

Nate and Chris share a high five. “We’re gonna be Tony D’s special guests of honor at his movie.”

Suddenly, Nate eyes Tony suspiciously. “What are you doin’ down here anyway?”

“Community outreach,” Tony replies.

Both Nate and Chris nod as though it’s something they both respect. Maybe that’s what they consider their drug dealing: keeping gentrification at bay so other lowlifes can continue to prosper with cheap rent and low police presence.

“If you need a quote for somethin’, I’ll give one,” Nate offers.

Tony smiles tightly. “I think we’ll be okay.”

Clearing his throat, Tim jerks his head towards the building. “Mr. DiNozzo, we’re going to be late for our…outreaching.”

“Man’s got himself a personal assistant and some shit.” Admiration drips from Chris’ voice. “Can we at least get an autograph before you bounce?”

Tony nods. “Sure, do either of you have a pen and some paper?”

Both men pat down their oversized hoodies and four sizes too big jeans. Despite all of their bulging pockets, they don’t have one. When Tony snaps his fingers at Tim, the agent rolls his eyes. He pulls out his notebook and a spare pen.

As he hands them to Tony, Chris’ eyes go wide and he points to the badge of Tim’s belt.

“Shit! Tony D’s personal assistant is a cop!” he yelps. “Run!”

Chris and Nate bolt down the street, hitching their pants up continuously to keep them from falling down their ankles. Speechless, Tim and Tony watch them dart down a back alley.

Tony sighs. “Nice job on the subtlety, Tim. We’ll never get to arrest them now.”

“We – “ Tim gestures between him and Tony “ – were never going to do anything. I would have been the one arresting them, but I’m already in the middle of another case. You’re here to observe. Don’t worry though, Metro will catch up with them sooner or later.”

“But drugs are so much cooler than paper clips.” Tony’s voice borders dangerously near a whine.

Tim shakes his head. “You don’t pick the case.”

“The case pick you, MacFortune Cookie.”

Tim instantly wishes that he had skipped putting that annoying joke of changing MacGregor’s name into nicknames in his book. When his publisher told him that he needed humor in the otherwise dry story, he had the brilliant idea to have a character play with MacGregor’s name. Even though it was a hit with the book critics, he still regrets the choice.

Making a face, Tim leads the way up the slate steps into the apartment building. Somehow, the lobby is more austere than the outside with off-white concrete pillars, exposed cinderblocks, and a poured concrete floor so polished that it resembles a still lake. He ignores his and Tony’s upside down reflections that bob after him on the way to the elevator.

Conflicted, Tony seems unable to decide whether he should chase down his new friends or follow Tim. He lingers by one of the pillars a bit too long and only slips through the elevator doors right before they close. When they reach the second floor, Tim doesn’t think that he and Tony are even in the same building anymore. Up here, the place borders on cozy with its soft, green-grey walls, recessed lighting, and prints of factory landscapes in gilded frames. An antique brass lamp on a credenza greets them.

“Swanky digs.” Tony lets out a low whistle. “Who knew peddling black market paper clips could be so lucrative?”

“Crime never pays,” Tim replies.

Tony snorts. “You never seemed like the type of author to use clichés.”

Ignoring him, Tim double-checks the apartment number on his cell phone. They stop at the end of the hallway at a sleek, brown door with the number _205_ in gold.

Tony is the first to knock—well, pound like he might just rip the door of its hinges. When he shoots Tim a proud grin, the agent reaches for his badge. Seconds later, the sound of several locks clicking echo.

The door opens just enough to frame a man’s round face. He pushes the sweat-slicked blonde hair off his forehead and wipes his beefy hands on his work-out pants. Perspiration stains underneath his arms highlight the grey T-shirt that reads, _Property of The USN._

His cautious, brown eyes flick between Tim and Tony.

“Can I help you?” he asks, glaring at Tony.

Tony helplessly glances at Tim, who sighs.

“Peter Michaels?” he says.

The man’s eyes land on Tim. “Who’s asking?”

Michaels takes a step in the hallway. Tim barely manages to stop himself from gaping. The petty officer’s photo didn’t relay just how big the man is in person with several inches—and more than fifty pounds of pure muscle—over Tim. Tony slinks towards the wall while Tim stands his ground.

Tim flashes his badge. “Special Agent McGee, NCIS. I’m here to – “

Before he has a chance to finish, Michaels shoves Tim backwards into Tony before bolting down the hallway. The sound of the door to the stairwell slamming cuts through them like a gunshot.  

Tony recovers first. “What….what do we do now?”

“Follow him!” Tim yells.

Tim lopes after their suspect with Tony hot on his heels. As soon as they reach the stairwell, Tony starts down the steps. Tim pauses to listen for Michaels’ footsteps. For some idiotic reason, their suspect is heading up, maybe two or three flights. A door slams somewhere above them and Tim chances that it might be the fifth floor. Right now, he doesn’t have anything else to go on.

Unholstering his weapon, Tim climbs the stairs. When Tony starts to follow, he turns back.

“I need you to stay here, Tony.” He protests, but Tim holds his hand up. “That’s an order. You’re an unarmed civilian. I can’t be responsible for your safety and my perp.”

Tony’s face pulls into a frown as he nods. “Be careful.”

“Always am,” Tim says, smiling.

And with that, Tim sprints up the stairs. His heart pounds from the exercise; his breath comes in stilted gasps. He slips out of the stairwell on the fifth floor, eases the door closed behind him to not alert Michaels that he’s been followed. Tim hopes to hell and back that he chose the correct floor because if he’s wrong. Well, he doesn’t want to think about the busy work that Gibbs will have for him if he fucked up their case _again_. Even if it is something as menial as missing office supplies.

This world is nothing like the cozy space that welcomed Tim below. Here, the floor is an active construction zone with wood frames built to show individual apartments and more power tools than a home improvement store. Sheets of plastic wrapping hang from the ceiling, flapping in the breeze from the broken windows. The cold air burns his lungs.

Tim eases it to the side to move into what should be the hallway. He levels his weapon in front of him as he slinks onto the floor. Sweat blossoms on his palm and he grips his Sig tighter.

_I should’ve called for back-up._

Somewhere worlds away, he hears the anxious cacophony of the traffic.

He moves deeper into the building, desperately searching for any sign of Michaels in the empty, deserted space. His dress shoes scrape against the metal shavings and unfinished concrete. He clears framed apartment after framed apartment.

The hair on the back of his neck rises. His heart sinks straight into his gut.

_I shouldn’t have left DiNozzo alone._

He starts to backtrack to the stairwell.

At that moment, a noise—metal skipping across concrete—echoes nearby.

Before Tim has a chance to turn around, someone grabs him from behind. Tim begins fighting before he even is fully aware what is going on. Someone’s hand grabs his tie and yanks him backwards, while the other lunges for his gun. Tim struggles to breathe and keep hold on his weapon. When his attacker rams Tim’s left arm into wood stud, the gun skitters away into the darkness.

Tim rams his elbow into his attacker’s gut, but it doesn’t do anything. Another jerk on his tie takes what little breath he had left away. He gears up for another attack.

But it stops when a blade comes to rest on Tim’s throat. It’s rough and corrugated against his skin and he bets it’s a hunting knife. Because that’s a great fucking way to die.

Tim bucks in the hold again.

Tim’s attacker digs the blade against his jawline to prove that he isn’t afraid to use it. Tim hisses at the burn and the blood starting down his neck.

“Easy, man, easy.” Michaels’ voice is calm and collected like he is the one in control.

And that scares the hell out of Tim. “Petty Officer Michaels, just think about what you’re doing. It can’t end well for you. Back-up’s on the way right now.”

A third pull on his tie draws Tim even closer to Michaels. Tim struggles to swallow and the blade flirts with his skin.  

Michaels’ breath is hot and rancid against Tim’s ear. “Then you better play nice. If you want to live.”


	5. Chapter 5

**5:18pm – 6234 R St. SW, Washington, DC – Southwest Neighborhood – Three Floors Above Peter Michaels’ Apartment –**

“If you do anything stupid, I’ll slit your throat,” Michaels says like Tim didn’t get it the first time.

He presses his lips together.

_Don’t freak out._

Having a gun pointed at your head is one thing—and sure, Tim’s been there in training—but having someone threaten to slit your throat? There’s just something gruesome and disgusting about the thought. He has cleared enough crime scenes to know about blood spatters from a punctured carotid, how far it sprays, how long it takes to bleed out, how…

_Come on, Tim. Don’t lose it._

But he wants to panic until he is either safe or dead.

Michaels growls in Tim’s ear. “Are you deaf or something? Are you going to get me out of here?”

Tim takes a shaky breath. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

A jerk from Michaels on Tim’s tie guides him towards the elevators. He suddenly sympathizes with his dog, Jethro, and those times when their walks ended far too quickly. When he—if he—gets out of here, he promises himself to let the dog sniff every patch of grass in Washington. 

Somewhere on the street below, the coming scream of sirens sound like singing angels.

Tim’s heart lifts.

_Tony must have called them._

Michaels grips Tim even tighter as move. He keeps eyes closed, not wanting to see how this standoff will end. He doubts that Michaels will make it out of the lobby if the police show up. Hell, Tim probably make it out of the elevator.

The sirens grow so loud that they might as well in the same room as Tim and Michaels. He can feel their shrieks pulsate in time with his head, comforting and terrifying all at the same time. The wood studs almost vibrate with their energy.

But then, they start to grow quieter as though they headed right past the building. When the wails turn to nothingness, Michaels heaves a sigh of relief.

He snickers.  “Back-up, my ass.”

Tim doesn’t say anything. He is too busy trying to figure out how to explain to Gibbs how he got dead in an arrest gone wrong. He thinks that maybe he should have written his will, but no one other than his sister would want his secondhand typewriter or secondhand novels.

“Petty Officer Michaels!” an authoritative voice suddenly bellows. “Release Agent McGee and put your hands on your head! Do it now!”

_What the fuck, Tony?_

Michaels wheels Tim around to face their pursuer.

Just when Tim thought a hostage standoff couldn’t get any worse. With his shoulders squared and his eyes hard, Tony mimics the stance of a fully trained agent ready to defuse the situation. He holds a weapon that looks like a Glock in a steady grip. Tim swallows hard, not wanting to know where the hell Tony got that.

_If I live, I’m so fired._

At the sight of Tim, Tony’s grip wavers momentarily until he schools the fear from his face. He clenches his teeth, working his jaw like a spring, as he checks down the sight of the gun. Maybe Tim will get lucky and Tony will shoot him before Michaels has a chance to slit his throat.

“Let Agent McGee go,” Tony orders. “Now!”

Michaels shifts slightly behind Tim. “You know you look familiar.”

Tony makes a face. “You’ve probably seen me on base before.”

Tim shoots Tony a look as though to say, _get the hell out of here._

But Tony is too busy playing agent to notice.

“Nah, that’s not it. But I am pretty sure that I’ve seen you somewhere else before.” The knife eases against Tim’s throat with the distraction. “You look a lot like that guy from the movies. The one about the speeding cars, hot chicks, and the explosions.”

Tony scoffs. “That sounds like all of the action movies in Hollywood these days.”

“No, you know the one that I’m talking about. Everyone knows _that one_.” When Michaels pulls on Tim’s tie for emphasis, the agent chokes out a cough. “ _Livin’ and Dyin’ in the Fast Lane._ ”

“Ah, _that one._ I think I’ve seen it.” Tony quirks a nervous grin. “I liked the lead actor. Do you remember what his name was, Michaels?”

Tim rolls his eyes as he speaks up: “Tony DiNozzo, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. That guy’s been in like everything.” Michaels’ grip loosenes slightly. “Did anybody ever tell you that you look like him?”

Tony shrugs. “I get that a lot.”

“You aren’t him…” Michaels gives a long pause as though it can’t be possible “…are you?”

“Really, Michaels?” Tony snorts. “Do you really think I’d waste my time picking up dirt bags like you when I could be in Hollywood getting laid?”

“When you put it that way.” Michaels actually laughs. “It’s just that you look so much like that actor.”

Tim shoots Tony another _look_ to tell him to get lost. But Tony raises his eyebrows, throws Tim his own _look_ as though to say everything is going according to plan.

_How the hell does Tony have a plan?_

“The name’s Liam MacGregor,” Tony says.

Tim cringes inwardly, almost wishing that one of them would take him out so that he doesn’t have to listen to the conversation. But with the way Tony stands, his stance so precise and his actions so fluid, Tim begins to understand that the actor might just be perfect for some part in the movie.

“Wait, wait.” Michaels jerks Tim back again. “That’s a character in a book. I’m reading _Deep Six_ right now. Why are you lying to me? I could kill your friend....”

“And I’ve got a gun on you.” Tony cocks his eyebrow like he does this all of the time. “Whose reaction time do you think is quicker? Mine or yours?”

Tim jump in: “Please don’t shoot anybody, To – gah.”

Michaels yanks on Tim’s tie again and it tightens like a noose. Tim gasps for air, hands scrabbling for the fabric, until Michaels barely loosens his hold. Tony doubles down on his grip, rechecks his aim. Tim hopes to G-d that he isn’t the one in the crosshairs.

“Are you sure that you aren’t Tony DiNozzo?” Michaels asks again.

“I already told you. I’m Liam MacGregor,” Tony says.  

Tim groans.

Tony tries a different tactic. “So what’s the deal with the paper clips, Michaels?”

“I happen to like them.”

“But fifty thousand? What the hell did you do with them?”

“I sold them to some German and Swedish corporations.” Michaels puffs his chest out like he’s proud of his work. “They’re very organized, but thrifty. They don’t like to pay retail.”

Tony’s face turns disappointed like he expected so much more. “That’s it? You sold office supplies on the black market?”

“Someone had to. Their suppliers were gouging them.”

Tony half-nods. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“I was helping them.”

Tim carefully meets Tony’s eyes, but the actor is too busy keeping watch on Michaels. Tim has no idea what the fucking plan is, if there is even a fucking plan. He tests Michaels’ hold, but his captor draws the knife against Tim’s throat again. He gasps when another trickle of blood starts down his neck.

“You need to let my friend go.” Tony’s knuckles go white against the gun. His voice comes plaintive when he adds: “Please.”

“No way. We’re getting out of here.” Michael drags Tim another step towards the elevator. “If you follow me, I’ll kill him.”

Tony steps forward. “I can’t let you do that.”

“What are you gonna do about it? Shoot me?”

At that moment, the gun in Tony’s hand goes off like a cannon. Wood splinters rain down over them. Stunned, Michaels drops the knife and Tim elbows him in the gut. Michaels gasps. Tim spins around to punch his captor in the nose. When Michaels drops to the floor, Tim swoops to cuff the suspect’s hands behind his back.

He loosens his tie, rasps: “Tony? What the hell were you thinking?”

“It’s…it’s…” Tony stares wide-eyed at the gun in his hands. He drops it to the ground and takes a full step back.

“What?” Tim’s gaze snaps to Tony. “Where in the hell did you get a gun?”

“It’s a prop! It’s supposed to be a prop filled with blanks, just to let me know what it felt like to be an agent.” Tony’s face turns panicked as he processes what just happened. “The prop manager gave it to me so I could get into the role.”

Tim points at the hole in the nearby stud. “Does that look like a prop to you?”

“No.” Tony takes a deep breath, then he cracks a grin. “But it was kind of cool how I just saved your life.”

When Tony goes to pick up his gun, Tim snatches it off the floor first. He tucks it into the waistband of his pants before he heads off after his Sig while Tony guards their suspect. Once Tim has all of the weapons, he finally lets himself relax.

Tim hauls Michaels to his feet.

The suspect grins at Tony like a star struck idiot. “I knew all along that you were Tony DiNozzo. No one will believe that I got arrested by a Hollywood legend. Can I get your autograph?”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**7:10pm - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC – Bullpen –**

Tim stares at the blinking cursor on his computer screen. It mocks him, challenging him to find a way to explain how a movie star, a federal agent, and a criminal came together in a construction site without it sounding like the punch line to a bad joke. 

He cracks his knuckles and makes a face. 

Finding the right words for his report tends to come so easy. But right now, no matter how many times he types and re-types them, the apprehension of Peter Michaels never reads quite right.

And maybe, it isn’t entirely his fault. The whole day didn’t go quite as smoothly as Tim expected and he doesn’t know how to put that into words. He doesn’t know how to spin taking a civilian—even though it was approved (and suggested) by the Director—to interview the suspect, almost getting his own throat slit, and letting the civilian fire an unlicensed weapon into something worthy of an official report.

The one that Gibbs reads.

Sighing, Tim tries to tell himself that the ends justified the means. Peter Michaels is right where he should be: down in interrogation, clamoring to tell Gibbs every crime he committed since kindergarten.

Or so Tim wants to believe.

It’s not like he is allowed down there at the moment. Carolyn forcibly removed him and Tony from observation as soon as Gibbs found out they were watching. With his tail between his legs, Tim retreated to the bullpen to finish his report with Tony in tow. He doubts that it matters anyway since it won’t be long until Gibbs gets their confession. Then Tim will—hopefully—be out of the doghouse and back on the paperclip murder. And if he’s really lucky, Tony will need a ride to the airport on their way to run down the next lead.

Guilt bubbles up in Tim’s gut when he realizes that he wouldn’t have closed the office supply case—and probably would be in the morgue—without Tony’s help. If it weren’t for Michaels’ celebrity-induced word vomit, they would never have gotten a preliminary confession.

Pressing his lips together, Tim hazards a glance at Tony.

Tony sits in a spare chair right by Tim’s desk. His brow is furrowed, his mouth screwed into a tight line as he studies the cold case file that Tim gave him to keep him busy. He jots down notes that Tim thinks are case-related until Tony’s gaze covertly flicks over.

When their eyes meet, Tony grins sheepishly.

“Making any headway?” Tim asks.

“The husband did it. The spouse is always guilty.” Tony nods emphatically. “Always.”

Tim’s eyelid twitches. “But the victim wasn’t married.”

“Then the boyfriend did it.”

“She was a closeted lesbian without a serious relationship.” Tim checks the case-file, but Tony is still on the first page. “What have you been doing for the past hour?”

“Thinking.”

“Can I see your notes?” Tim asks, gesturing to the notepad in Tony’s lap.

He covers it with his hands. “Uh, no. They’re – uh, …personal. Yeah, real personal.”

“But if you have any new leads – “ Tony tries to get his pad away, but Tim grabs it “ – it could help us close our case.”

They get into a heated tug of war until Tony loses his grip. Tim’s desk chair rolls backwards hard enough to rattle the cubicle wall and send some of his pictures fluttering to the floor. Straightening his stance, Tim flips through the pages of Tony’s notes. The handwriting is smooth and concise, belonging to someone who puts a lot of consideration into each and every word.

_Sits with at the computer with his back ram-rod straight. Good posture – grew up in a military household? Has been doing this just for a long time and it shows. Likes to bite his lip when he gets stuck on something, but that’s the only noticeable tell of frustration while working. Contrasts greatly with how high strung and uncertain he is in the field._

_Types fast – lightning fast._

_Nothing can distract when he’s working, not even a hot female agent. ~~Gay?~~ Not even a good-looking male agent breaks his focus. Possibly asexual._

That makes Tim’s head snap up. “What the hell is this?”

“Character profile,” Tony says as though it explains everything.

Tim blinks. “A what?”

“Sometimes I jot down ideas when I’m trying to get into my subject’s head. It helps me get back into character later on.”

 When Tim slumps back in his seat, Tony matches the action. “And I’m the character?”

“Well, MacGregor is. And that is  – “ Tony turns up his megawatt grin “ – obviously you.”

“Nothing in my book is based on real life.” Turning back to his computer, Tim mutters under his breath: “And for your information, I’m straight. I’m just waiting until I meet the right girl.”

Tony picks up his notepad and scratches off something. When he starts to write a new note, the noise cuts straight through Tim. He snatches the pad and chucks it clear across the bullpen.

Tony’s eyes go wide. “What did you do that for?”

Tim stands up, slams his hands on his desk. “Because I’m not MacGregor! And even if I was, I wouldn’t want you playing me in a movie!”

Suddenly, all of the emotion drains from Tony’s face. He looks like a little kid whose best friend just told him that they can’t be friends anymore before anger sweeps the disappointment away. Tony climbs to his feet, sending his chair skating across the bullpen into Carolyn’s desk.

Tim mentally kicks himself. “Look, Tony, I don’t mean that. Really. It’s just that…”

“Just what?”

“You have no idea what it’s like to have someone show up at your work and follow you around while trying to learn everything about you.” Tim gestures towards where the notebook landed. “You’re taking notes on me, for G-d’s sake.”

“It’s the price of fame, Tim. Have you ever had a paparazzi follow you around?”

Tim bites his lip. “Not that I know of.”

“This is close to what it’s like. But they write articles about your life and post them all over the internet for everyone to read. So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t understand.” Tony rubs the back of his neck. “But I am sorry to have intruded on your life.”

“It’s okay and I would apologize too. But you know, Rule Six.”

Confusion clouds the anger in Tony’s eyes. “’Keep suspects apart so they don’t kill each other?’ Like what happened to Agent Lisa in chapter fifteen?”

“Gibbs’ Rule Six: Never apologize.” Tim laughs. “But I think Tibbs’ rules might work here too.”

“Maybe, Tim, maybe.” Tony holds his hand out. “I guess it’s time for me to head out anyway. Thanks again for a great day and a wonderful experience. I hope our paths cross again someday.”

Tim doesn’t fight the rising guilt. What started out as a unique—bordering on exciting—experience turned into a giant mess. If he had just done things differently, maybe he would have someone that he could ask to play a part in his movie. Or at the very least, for an autograph.

_Carolyn and Ziva are going to kill me when they find out that I chased away Tony DiNozzo._

Tim shakes Tony’s hand anyway. “I wish it had worked out, Tony.”

“Me too, Tim.”

Tony grabs his coat from behind Tim’s desk. He gives the bullpen one last long—almost remorseful—look before he starts towards the elevators.

At that moment, Gibbs swoops in. “Where do you think you’re going, MacGregor?”

Tony slings his jacket over his shoulder. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Not anymore. Michaels says he’ll only confess to you. I want you in interrogation. Now.” When Tony starts to protest, Gibbs smacks the back of his head. “Non-negotiable.”

“Okay.” Tony drops his coat on the closest desk. “Where do I go?”

“McGee will take you.”

Tim glances up from his computer. “Boss?”

“Rule 38c.”

“’Make sure you cover all your bases?’” Tony asks.

When anger takes hold of Gibbs’ features, Tim jumps in: “Boss, shouldn’t I finish up here?”

The irritation deepens on Gibbs’ face as he motions for Tim to follow for a private conversation. Tim feels as though he walks to his own execution while he follows Gibbs into the elevator. Moments later, they’re in a stopped car staring at each other under the dim glow of the emergency lighting. Well, Gibbs is busy staring him down. Tim doesn’t dare meet into his boss’ eyes. One misplaced glance, he fears, could turn him to stone. The emergency alarm buzzes overhead, threatening to drive Tim insane.

He cracks first. “Boss, I – “

“38c,” Gibbs growls.

Tim licks his lips, nods. “My case, my lead. But boss – “

“Your case, your lead, your – “ Gibbs hooks his thumb back towards the bullpen “ – problem. See it through.”


	7. Chapter 7

**WASHINGTON, DC** – As if things couldn’t get any stranger with Tony DiNozzo’s trip. He was last spotted entering an apartment building with an unknown man in the Southwest neighborhood. One observant reader sent us the photos below of the two men talking before they headed inside. _Together._ They were not seen leaving the building again. Speculation is already starting as to what all it could mean for America’s Most Eligible Bachelor.

Could Tony DiNozzo be trying something new—like a boyfriend, maybe?—post-catastrophic break-up with Jeanne Benoit? Or has he made some new friends on the other side of the country?

DC residents, please keep those tips—and photos—coming!

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:01pm – Interrogation – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

The sulfuric glow of the lights in interrogation makes everyone appear so sallow and sickly, even Tony’s award-winning looks are drowned out by the harsh yellow burn. His impeccable, designer suit is positively out of place amongst industrial metal interview chairs, vinyl table, and the sticky, concrete floor.

Leaned against the wall by the one-way mirror, Tony crosses his arms. He stares down their suspect with a glare that rivals Gibbs’. His stance is slumped and relaxed, but it betrays the hard, terrifying look in his eyes. If Tim didn’t know better, he would think Tony did the interrogation dance every day.

Tim slides into one of the uncomfortable chairs across from Peter Michaels.

No matter how many times the janitors scrub the room, it continually reeks of desperation and fear and shit. Tim barely even notices the smell anymore, but Tony breathes carefully through his mouth.

Tim straightens his own tie, winces when it hits the bruise from his earlier altercation with Peter Michaels. Unconsciously, he lets his fingers linger on the Band-Aid where the knife bit into his skin.

_If it weren’t for Tony, I might be dead…_

Pressing his lips together, Tim forces himself to look at their suspect. The close proximity to Michaels still makes his skin crawl, but it helps him to know that Carolyn is just behind the one-way mirror. Even though she’s probably drooling over Tony, Tim likes knowing that back-up in close in case the suspect tries to attack him again.

But the glimmer in Michaels’ eyes tells Tim think he won’t try anything again. Not in front of Tony.

Michaels sits on the edge of his seat, stares at Tony with a far-off gaze like if he’s afraid that he might just wake up from a dream. Tim is surprised that Michaels wouldn’t be ready to run from the reality where all he has to look forward to is a ten-year sentence in Leavenworth.

“Petty Officer Michaels.” Anxiety creeps into Tim’s voice. “You asked to speak with us. You told my boss that you were ready to confess to the theft of military office supplies.”

He carefully lays out the supply requisition forms and inventory reports that show the discrepancies between the orders and how many supplies actually ended up in the Naval coffers. At the bottom of each one is Peter Michaels’ loopy, feminine signature.

“We’ve already used handwriting analysis to confirm that this is your signature,” Tim continues.

But he might as well be talking to himself. Michaels just continues to stare at Tony like a star struck idiot. Ever since they both got into the same room, Tony and Michaels have been locked in some sort of non-verbal conversation that Tim can’t seem to break through. It slowly drives him crazy.

He leans into Michaels’ line of vision, but the suspect just tilts further sideways. When Tim tries again, Michaels climbs to his feet. Tony pushes off the way to pull himself to his full height. Tim tries to intercept the agent wannabe before he does anything stupid… _again_.

But Tony just stops to glare at Michaels like Gibbs would.

So Tim switches tactics. He pulls out the notepad where he wrote down Michaels’ earlier confession after their first…meeting.

“You told Mr. DiNozzo that you were selling paper clips to the – “ Tim slowly reads his own shaky script “ – ‘The Swedes and the Germans’ because ‘their suppliers were gouging them.’ Is that correct?”

Michaels’ devilish smile and half-shrug quickens Tim’s pulse.

Tony steps forward to get into Michaels’ personal space, but the suspect doesn’t back down.

“If you tell us why,” Tony says like he does this all the time, “we might be able to get you a good deal, Michaels. What would you like? Maybe a cell with a nice view? Or some extra spending money?”

Michaels makes a show of thinking about it. “Tickets and a guaranteed weekend release so I can go to your next movie premiere.”

Dumbfounded, Tim blinks. Why the hell would anyone sacrifice years of their life for a split-second in someone else’s spotlight?

“Done,” Tony says, extending his hand.

Before they have a chance to shake, Tim jumps out of his seat. He grabs Tony’s arm, gives their suspect a ‘one second’ motion and drags the movie star into the hallway.

Carolyn pops her head out of observation. The anger on her face is apparent, but he’ll deal with her wrath later…after Gibbs and the director and whomever the hell else wants a piece of him have taken their pound of flesh.

“I got this, ma’am,” he says as blandly as he can.

Her eyes narrow at him. “You can’t do – “

“I said I’ll handle it, Bullock,” he snaps.

She stares at him and Tony for a long moment before she nods. Tim swears she offers Tony a sympathetic shrug and a sad smile before she retreats back into observation. Let Tim be the bad guy, it seems, so that later she’ll still be able to be try her luck with the one and only Tony DiNozzo.

Tony wrests himself out of Tim’s grasp. “What are you doing?”

_“Me?”_ Tim’s voice jumps an octave. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Closing the case like Gibbs asked us to.” When Tim steeples his hands against his lips, Tony tilts his head, clearly confused. “I thought that was part of the ‘Tibbs Technique’ and the ‘MacGregor Magic.’ Tell the suspect whatever they want to hear in order to get your confession.”

“That’s not how it works, DiNozzo. You can’t just lie to the suspect. If his lawyer finds out about it, the whole confession could get thrown out. He could walk – ”

“Then I guess we need to make sure he doesn’t his hands on a lawyer,” Tony says with a wink. “Rule 10, remember? Leave the lawyers behind.”

Groaning, Tim throws his hands up. He’s about ready to turn in his badge and gun for a full-time writing career. But the next time, he’ll avoid putting in a clause that lets him pick out the lead actor for his film. Instead, he resolves, he’ll sell the rights to his next series for a disgusting amount of money, let the studio make all the freaking decisions, and retire to somewhere in Ireland. Creative control isn’t worth the number of years sheared off his life today.

All Tony has to offer is a shit-eating grin like none of his actions have real consequences, like someone is about to yell _Cut!_ and everyone will go back to their normal, peaceful lives.

Just as Tony is about head back into interrogation, Abby wheels around the corner at full-speed. Her combat boots thud against the carpet and her lab coat whips behind her like a cape. She barrels into Tim, nearly knocking both of them over, but he catches her. His hand lingers against the small of her back, just a second too long. The scent of her sends his mind whirling.

Tony’s eyes dip to her mini-skirt. Tim fights the urge to punch him.

Tim starts: “Abs? What’s – “

“McGee! Tony! I’m so glad I caught you before you went into interrogation. Gibbs told me to come tell you what I found since you two are the ones interrogating Michaels. You’ll never believe what I found.”  She rocks back and forth in her boots like she might explode before they have the chance to guess. Before either of them speak, she grins. “You should try to guess. Because really, you’ll never see it coming like that ending to _Deep Six._ Come on, guess. Guess!”

“How much Caf-Pow have you had, today?” Tim asks.

“Three full size ones and a mini-Pow when the afternoon slump hit.”

Tony’s mouth gapes. “That seems like a lot.”

“It’s enough to get me through the day and keep me running on all cylinders. Otherwise, I never would have been able to finish your book during the time I had while Major Mass Spec was working. I love the characters, by the way. They’re so realistic and familiar.” Her gaze darkens at Tony. “I don’t know what you were thinking saying that I was anything like Amy Sutton. She’s addicted to Red Bull, talks way too much, and seems like a skank. How does that sound anything like me?”

Tony shoots Tim a glance, but he just mouths: _I told you it was fiction_.

Eventually, Tony offers her a conciliatory half-smile. “Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Damn right.” Abby fiddles with her pigtail. “Plus, I can’t believe that she would still be in love with MacGregor after they accidentally slept together at the Christmas party. He is way too boring for her.”

Tim feels the familiar flush work its way up his neck. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the file folder in her hands. “Can we get back to your results?”

When she grins, she shows off her Caf-Pow stained teeth. “Only if you guess.”

“Come on, Abs. We don’t have time to play games. Just – “

“Peter Michaels was the one who jammed a bunch of paper clips into Billy Williams’ carotid,” Tony interjects. “You proved it by showing that the paper clips in his neck were from one of the batches that Michaels hijacked. That in combination with his job on the base and the orders for the office supplies and some other evidence should be enough to put him away for life.”

Abby deflates right before their eyes.

Tony hazards a laugh. “What? Was I wrong?”

Abby recovers first. “No, actually you were absolutely right. Billy Williams worked in the supply department and found out that Peter Michaels was siphoning off the office supplies. So he sent Michaels an e-mail asking for a pay-off. They had a meeting set up for the day before Williams’ body was found. Ducky found a fingerprint on the body and I matched it to Michaels.”

After she passes Tim the file, he quickly skims the contents. Tony peeks over his shoulder.

“But Tony, how did you know?” she asks, sounding like her world is ending.

“It’s close to the plot of James Patterson’s latest novel.” He cracks a wicked grin. “Except that one was about bombs, not paper clips.”

Tim can’t help feeling a bit betrayed that Tony has cheated on his novels with another mystery author. In an attempt to hide his disappointment, Tim snaps the folder closed. He starts to head back into interrogation, but Tony is glued to his side.

“You can’t come back in, Tony,” Tim says quietly. “You need to be done with the case.”

Tony’s shoulders slump as he steps back.

“He just solved the case for you, McGee.” Abby wraps her arms around Tony as she shoots Tim a dirty look. “And you’re going to go in there and steal his glory?”

Even though Tony isn’t an agent and shouldn’t even be here, Abby somehow makes Tim out to be the bad guy. He doesn’t want to think about what Gibbs will do to him because their confession might not hold up in court with a civilian sitting in on it.  

But when he notices the way Tony leers at Abby, Tim makes up his mind.

_The hell with protocol. I’m not leaving those two alone._

He gestures towards interrogation with the folder, keeps his eyes fixed on Tony’s.

“I do all the talking, DiNozzo,” he says.

“You won’t even know that I’m there.” Tony slips Abby a high-five that he thinks Tim doesn’t see. “This is going to be so cool.”

Tim immediately regrets the decision, but he leads the way into interrogation anyway.

_There’s no turning back now._

As soon as the door is closed, Michaels perks up. “So I assume we have a deal? If you –“ he points at Tim “—promise to drop the assault charges and guarantee me that I’ll see Tony DiNozzo’s next movie premiere, I’ll cop to the theft.”

Before Tim has a chance to open his mouth, Tony jumps in. “You’re in no position to make demands.”

When Tim glares at him, Tony retreats to his former position back by the one-way mirror. He leans against the wall and channels his entire being into a nasty, Tibbs-like grimace.

Tim reclaims the seat across from Michaels. He can’t come up with a better retort, so he steals Tony’s.

“You’re in no position to make demands,” Tim growls.

Behind him, Tony snorts. While Michaels chuckles to himself, Tim carefully displays the photos of Billy Williams’ corpse and every piece of evidence that ties the petty officer to the murder. He recounts the story that Tony told in the hallway. As he talks, the color slowly drains from Michaels’ face.

After Tim is done, the silence stretches for a long time. The only noise to break it is the squeak of Michaels’ tennis shoe as he bounces his foot underneath the table.

Michaels licks his lips. “I think I’d like to call – “

Suddenly, Tony blurts out: “Say, Michaels, did you know my buddy, Agent McGee, here is a writer?”

Confusion passes over Michaels’ face and he says: “So?” at the same time Tim gasps: “Tony!”

“You know that book _Deep Six?”_ Tony heads over to clasp his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You’re sitting right across from the author extraordinaire.”

Michaels nods like he is just playing along. “That’s nice, I guess.”

“Yeah, it is pretty exciting, isn’t it? Especially since my next part will be in the movie adaptation. I’ll be taking on the role of…” When Tony surveys Tim’s irate face, he shrugs “…well, we’re still negotiating that at the moment.”

“Okay, so what does any of this have to do with me?”

Tim waves his hand at Tony as though to say _get to the point already,_ because he has no idea where the hell Tony is going either.

“Where do you think a writer’s inspiration comes from, Michaels?” Tony lays his hand on the table, delicately placing his fingers on the photos of Billy Williams.

Michaels leans forward, clearly interested in whatever bullshit Tony is selling. Tim fights the urge to tell them both that his books are pure fiction because Michaels looks like he might just confess.

“Agent McGee’s been having a hard time coming up with the plot for the sequel.”

Michaels looks at Tim. “That true?”

When Carolyn knocks on the one-way mirror, Tim knows they don’t have much time left. He debates about doing whatever it takes to get his confession or playing by the rules. When Tony grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, Tim decides that the consequences should be damned.

_New McGee Rule Eight: The endgame matters, not the journey._

Tim shrugs. “I just have a mild case of writer’s block. I’m sure it’ll pass as soon as I get a good idea.”

Pursing his lips, Michaels’ eyes drop to the table as he surveys the handiwork.

“But it’s a lot easier if I know who did it from the beginning,” Tim says.

Michaels seems to waver like a confession weighs heavy on his tongue. His lips move as though he might just tell them everything, but still, he holds back.

“Just think,” Tony says, “you could be the next villain in a novel. How cool would that be?”

Another knock on the mirror cuts through the silence. Carolyn is pulling them both out of the interrogation. Dutifully, Tim stands up to leave.

Tony hangs back. “When we walk out that door, your chance to become a Bond-level villain goes with us.” Tony slams his hands on the table, making Tim jump. “Think about it. How cool do you think you’ll be when Thom E. Gemcity gets done with you. Because killing someone with office supplies, well, that’s a pretty lame legacy to leave.”

Tim just reaches on the door when Michaels speaks up. “If you put it in writing that I’ll be in your next novel, I’ll confess. Just get me a pen and some paper. I’ll give you the best fucking idea ever.”

Tim turns back. “Someone will be right in.”

He barely manages to contain his excitement until he is out in the hallway. After Tony closes the door behind him, the movie star lets out a whoop.

“That was so awesome.” He grins. “I think I might have missed my calling.”

Tim shakes his head. “I’ve seen a few of your movies. I think you ended up right where you’re supposed to be.”

Tony’s grin broadens. “I knew you were lying earlier when you said you’d never seen them.”

Half-smiling, Tim changes the subject. “But that was some nice footwork in there.”

“I couldn’t have done it alone…” Tony holds his fist out and Tim bumps it “…partner.”

Before Tim has a chance to reply, Carolyn darts out of interrogation. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed. Panic doesn’t suit her beautiful features.

“McGee.”

“Bullock, what’s going on?” Tim asks.

“The director wants to see you,” she says quietly. “He was watching in his office on the CCTV. He sounded pissed. I tried to talk him down, McGee. I really tried…”

And with that, every bit of excitement within Tim evaporates into nothingness. His heart drops straight into his stomach. Tony slaps Tim’s back, tries to lighten the moment. Carolyn slips out of observation, closes the door silently behind her.

“I’ll finish up here, McGee,” she says quietly.

He sighs. “Thanks.”

 When he passes her, her hand squeezes his arm. “Good luck up there, Tim.”

He sets off on the long trek to the director’s office. In that moment, he is on his way to his own funeral. Because if Carolyn is being nice to him, Tim is pretty sure that he’s beyond fucked.


	8. Chapter 8

**9:32pm – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –  Office Director Leon Vance –**

Seated in one of Vance’s guest chairs, Tim feels oddly like a kid that got sent to the principal’s office. At least, he thinks it should feel a lot like this. Back in grade school, he never had the chance to take the long walk down the short hallway that was the daily routine of a juvenile delinquent.

_I bet Tony knew the way by heart before he even hit middle school._

Tim isn’t sure how he is supposed to sit while he waits for Vance to, presumably, rip him a new one.

So he leans back in the seat, crosses his legs. Suddenly, he decides that he looks too comfortable—way too relaxed and more like how he imagines Tony would sit. He drops both feet back to the floor and fidgets with his hands in his lap. That makes him appear too agitated. So Tim ends up right where he started: gripping the armrests with white knuckles and his left leg bouncing with its own nervous energy.

It isn’t like it matters anyway. Vance is too busy reading Tim’s report on the Michaels arrest and grinding a toothpick into splinters to notice.

After what feels like an eternity, Vance clears his throat. He catches Tim in a glare that is one step below Gibbs’ level, but enough to scare Tim. His vision goes spotty and for a moment, he is about to keel over.

“Agent McGee,” Vance’s voice is authoritative and terrifying, “am I reaching when I say that your report downplays today’s events?”

Tim drums his fingers against the chair. “I know my methods were a bit unorthodox, but – “

“I think that’s being kind,” Vance interrupts. “You took an untrained civilian into the field, let him discharge an unapproved—not to mention, _unregistered_ —weapon, and nearly got yourself killed.”

Unconsciously, Tim rubs the band-aid on his neck where Michaels tried his hand at rudimentary surgery. The anger eases from Vance’s face as he replaces his worn toothpick with a fresh one.

“I did what I thought was right,” Tim says quietly. “I showed Tony DiNozzo how we do thing here at NCIS. Isn’t that what you asked me to do?”

Vance half-smiles. “I think the Hollywood-level heroics are best left to your novels. Out of everyone on your team, I thought you were the safest one for Tony DiNozzo to follow around.”

Tim tilts his head. “What should I have done, sir?”

“I don’t know.” Vance pops the toothpick out of his mouth. “Show him some computer stuff or let him read a bunch of cold case files? Hell, you could’ve dropped him off in the evidence locker for a few hours while you and one of your teammates checked out your lead on Michaels.”

_How could I have not thought of any of those?_

Tim drops his gaze to the director’s plush carpet. Even though he wants to defend himself, he can’t find his voice.

What is he supposed to say anyway?

That Gibbs wouldn’t let him investigate their dead petty officer and he decided to check out Michaels alone to get back in his boss’ good graces? Because while Vance might actually buy it, Tim still had so many other choices that he could’ve made.

Tilting his head, Vance leans forward. “Then there was the matter that you promised the suspect that he could be the villain in your next book.”

“It got us a confession.” Tim’s smile is fleeting.

“The ends don’t always justify the means, Agent McGee.” When Tim starts to protest, Vance shakes his head. “No matter what Agent Gibbs might tell you, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, sir,” Tim says quietly.

He waits for the tilt of a head to send him back to his team, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Vance appears to be holding back from saying something that he obviously doesn’t want to.

Tim gestures towards the door. “Can I go now, sir? Tony DiNozzo was about to leave when I came up here. I’d like to have a chance to say goodbye.”

“Not quite yet, Agent McGee.” Vance slides a piece of paper out from underneath Tim’s report. “I think we need to discuss the consequences of your actions.”

Tim swallows hard. “Consequences?”

“I just finished reviewing your request for two weeks of leave. Starting now.”

“I didn’t fill out any…” Tim makes a face. “Wait, are you suspending me?”

Vance shakes his head. “There is a big difference between a suspension and a required use of your overwhelming amount of unused vacation time.”

“It sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“I think it’s in your interest to take a few weeks out of the office. Learn the difference between what happens in your novels and the agency.” Vance offers Tim a assuaging smile. “Just so you don’t learn too many bad habits from Agent Gibbs.”

“I understand.” Tim can’t bring himself to meet Vance’s eyes. “Is that all, sir?”

“Yes, Agent McGee. We’ll see you again in two weeks after your vacation is done.” He turns to his paperwork. “I’ve already notified Agent Gibbs of the situation.”

Tim doesn’t trust his voice to respond. He just nods like a broken wind-up toy and stumbles out of his seat. He rushes out of the office, ignores the questioning glance from Vance’s secretary.

He takes the stairs back to the bullpen as slow as he can because he doesn’t know what he is supposed to say to his team. Sure, he can play along with Vance’s like that he decided on a two-week vacation at the last possible minute…while they were right in the middle of a case and the upcoming time of year that Carolyn likes to refer to as, “Dead Petty Officer Season.”

But maybe a vacation—suspension—isn’t the end of the world.

He probably could use the time to rest and recoup. And who knows, maybe it could be the cure for his writer’s block. Or perhaps, he could hop on a plane and visit all those places he keeps saying that he will, just as soon as he gets the time. Hell, he could even use the time to deal with all of the bullshit that his literary agent keeps hounding him about for the movie.

When Tim hits the edge of the bullpen, he just outside the cubicle walls, unable to bring himself to enter. He stands stock-still, watching his team interact with each other. These are the moments that he tries so hard—and fails so spectacularly—to recreate in his novels.

Boxes of Chinese food and take-out containers litter every available inch of workspace like a typical all-nighter. By her desk, Carolyn sits as close to Tony as she can get without making him uncomfortable. The first few buttons of her shirt have come undone and she dips towards to him, obviously pretending that she isn’t giving him a show. Of course, she is hanging on every Tony’s every word. Ziva is at her desk, clearly ignoring Carolyn’s shameless attempts at flirting.

“…and that’s when the gun went off.” Tony’s slurred words from a mouthful of food carry all the way to the stairwell and probably through the whole freaking building. “I didn’t know what to do next, so I threw it at Michaels.”

Carolyn’s hysterical giggles ring out as she cranes her neck towards Tony. “Then what happened?”

Ziva perks up: “Why did you just not throw a knife at Michaels? That would have stopped him quite effectively.”

“Because I left it with my paper clips back at the office,” Tony says sarcastically.

Carolyn cracks up and Tony joins in.  

Ziva reaches for a letter opener. “Do not mock my methods for they are useful.”

Carolyn suddenly grows serious when she says: “She’s right, Tony. You’re better off not questioning how she does things. What happened next anyway?”

Tony’s mouth is full again. “Well, Tim went all Rambo on Michaels’ ass and took him down right then and there. It was so cool to watch a fight happen when it isn’t choreographed to death like my movies.”

“That’s fascinating,” Carolyn trills, but she doesn’t sound interested at all. “Are most of your fight scenes choreographed?”

“By ballet instructors and kung-fu teachers and anyone else a studio can find.” He rolls his eyes. “The worst was the final show-down from my movie _Don’t Die Again._ ”

“Isn’t that the one where you and your love interest make love during the battle because you think you’re both about to die?” His roguish grin takes her breath away. “That scene was so hot.”

He dips closer to Carolyn to whisper in her ear and in that moment, it’s like they’re the only two left in the world. Whatever Tony says makes Carolyn’s face turn as red as her shirt. Ziva rolls her eyes.

And that’s when Tim understands why Tony wouldn’t be the right fit as Agent Liam MacGregor in the upcoming movie. MacGregor is soft-spoken and patient, intelligent and prudent, not to mention completely hopeless around women. In fact, he is nothing like Tony.

But the actor’s natural personality is still so familiar. It’s the way he is a quick-draw with a sarcastic quip, a walking encyclopedia for books and movies, and a brazen flirt with his easy, impish grin.

_Oh my G-d, now I know why he feels so familiar._

Tony DiNozzo is a living, breathing version of Agent Tommy DeNiro.

Inhaling deeply, Tim figures that it might just be time to face Tony and his team. He holds his head up high, plasters a bright smile on his face, and heads straight for his desk.

Tony glances up from trying to get into Carolyn’s pants. “We were wondering when you were coming to join us, Tim. We got you some General Tso’s chicken. Agent Bullock here says it’s your favorite.”

“Thanks, but I’m really not hungry.” Tim stops behind his desk to grab his bag as well as their most recent casefile and the notebook full of plot ideas for his next novel.  “I’m going to head home.”

“How did it go-- Carolyn’s eyes draw towards the director’s office—up there?”

“Fine, great. Wonderful.” Tim shrugs with one-shoulder. “I’m going on vacation for a few weeks.”

Flinching, Carolyn reads right between the lines. “Ah. That sucks.”

“No, I put in a request a while ago to…” Tim drops his gaze to the floor.

“To give me a few weeks to run lines and show me my proper motivation,” Tony jumps in. “I’m glad the director finally came around and let you take it.”

Tim meets Tony’s eyes and smiles. The _thank you_ goes understood, but unspoken.

“Anyway, I think I’m going to head home for the night.” Tim is halfway out of the bullpen. “I’ll see you guys in a few weeks. I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss the part, Tony.”

“Have a nice vacation, McGee,” Carolyn says before turning back to Tony.

“Goodbye, McGee. I will check in later in the week,” Ziva calls as she spears something in her takeout container murderously with a fork.

But Tony is on his feet instantaneously. “Wait up, Tim.”

Tim pauses. When Carolyn clears her throat, Tony doubles back and scribbles something on a piece of paper. Tim swears he hears him mutter, _Call me,_ to her. She sinks back into her chair with the paper clasped to her chest as though she might be swooning. 

Then Tony joins Tim again. He slings his arm around Tim’s shoulder. “So you finally had that change of heart, Tim? What made you realize that I would do a great of a job as MacGregor?”

“Actually, I decided that you’d be perfect as Agent Tommy.”

Tony goes dead silent as they finish the walk to the elevators. It isn’t until the doors close that Tony’s mind catches up to his body. His nose wrinkles into the furrow of his brow.

“You think I should play Agent Tommy?” he says. “But I’m nothing like him.”


	9. Chapter 9

**10:43 pm – The Legislative Branch Bar and Grille, Washington, DC – Capital Hill Neighborhood –**

Two glasses of Chardonnay bring Tim a surprising amount of peace about his impromptu vacation. When Tony first dragged him into the tiny restaurant, Tim could do little more than sit at the bar and morosely sip his wine. Now, he can’t stop thinking about the possibility of an actual vacation or better yet: getting started on _Deep Six’s_ sequel that his publisher expected last month.

Taking another sip, Tim pushes the work—and writing and investigating—from his mind. As Tony declared when they toasted their first drinks, tonight would be the time for them to enjoy their newfound friendship. If Tony were going to get into the role of Agent Tommy, he decided that he needed to be friends with the inspiration for MacGregor. Out of everything Tony could’ve suggested, Tim thought it sounded sensible. So he went along for the ride.  

They spend their time in relative silence. Tim watches the replay of a football game on a big screen television above the bar while Tony works the room as best he can with a deadweight wingman.

He takes a swig from the Scotch on the rocks in his one hand. Then he pops the last of a cheeseburger slider into his mouth. His eyes are set on a group of bottle blondes in the corner who nurse drinks in a rainbow of colors. When one gives Tony a flirty wave, he returns it. They fall into raucous giggles.

Tony elbows Tim in the shoulder. “Will you look at that, MacSadSack?”

Tim shrugs. “This must happen to you a lot.”

“You have no idea. Watch this.” Tony wraps his arm around Tim’s shoulder, grins, and motions between the two of them like they’re together. The girls go wild before they dive into their smart phones.

Tim cocks an eyebrow. “What did that do?”

“Just started a thousand rumors in Hollywood that I’m gay and you’re my lover.” He draws out the word so it sounds like _lov-uh_. “I bet they’re taking to Twitter as we speak.”

Groaning, Tim shrugs Tony off. “Great, that’s just what I need right now.”

After he chugs the last of his wine, Tony calls the bartender to refill Tim’s drink. Even though it should be a work night, Tim doesn’t protest. It doesn’t matter much anyway. He takes a swig of his new drink, letting his embarrassment fade away with every sip. If he plays his cards just right, he might be able to forget about all of his troubles before morning and let the big Hollywood actor pick up the evening’s tab.

Tony eases his body against the bar. “Do you want to talk about today, Tim?”

“Not really,” Tim says blandly.

Tony nods. “Okay. Well, then you must be excited about your vacation.”

Tim scoffs into his drink. “Something like that.”

“When was the last time you took one anyway?”

“A couple of years ago, I think.”

“You’re kidding.” When Tim doesn’t say anything, Tony’s eyes grow wide. “You’ve taken some time off since then, right? Even Tibbs takes a vacation. Big beer hunting in Mexico for two weeks every summer.”

Frowning, Tim pokes the long-cold appetizers that are left on his plate. The congealed remnants of sauce from the wings and nacho cheese on the tortilla chips now turn his stomach. Taking Tim’s disinterest as an invitation, Tony slides the food in front of himself and gets to work.

“Yeah, I took a week off to finish my book last year. Then, I took another a few days to head out to California to sign the movie deal.” Tim shrugs. “Other than that, I just haven’t had the time. We can’t all spend months in the Caribbean with our movie star girlfriend.”

Tony nearly chokes on a chicken wing. “Wait…you…think…” He downs his Scotch to catch his breath, then gags. It takes a moment to compose himself. “You think I was chasing some chick in a bikini around the beach?”

“I pictured more than one.” Tim tilts his head. “But yeah. What else would you do with a vacation?”

“It figures that’s all people think we do in our down time.” Anger clouds Tony’s features. “I had some family business to clean up on Long Island. My dad isn’t known for making the best life choices.”

Before Tim has a chance to press, Tony holds his hand up at tell him that’s all he is going to get. Tim bites his lower lip, desperately wishing he had fodder to flesh out Agent Tommy’s character background. But eventually, he decides against it.

“So what are you going to do with two weeks off?” Tony asks.

“Maybe I’ll work on my next novel, watch some movies, or catch up on my reading.” Tim smiles thoughtfully. “I’ve got a pile of books that I just haven’t had a chance to read yet.”

Tony snorts. “That sounds like a ton of fun.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

The bartender drops another Scotch off in front of Tony. He holds it up, using it to gesture towards the crowded bar. So many people seem to forget—or just don’t give a shit—that it’s a work night.

“Live a little,” he says. “Travel to a foreign country. Get laid. Do something fun for once.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tim lies.

Tony cracks a bright grin. “Look, I’m going to start filming a new movie on Thursday in Vancouver. Why don’t you come hang out on set with me for a few weeks?”

Tim’s eyebrows jump. “Can I get you suspended too?”

“Don’t push your luck, Agent McGee.”

Tim pulls another sip of wine. He stares out at the bar patrons and for the first time, he understands how many of nights just like this one he missed out on. Work, he always told himself, came first because catching criminals was more important than his own well-being. Friends, conversations, and maybe even his life fell by the wayside to his career.

Tony taps his elbow. “So what do you say?” 

“I’ll just have to find out what to do with my dog.”

“ _You_ have a dog?”

“Yeah, a German Shepard. Why?”

Tony turns back to the bar. “No reason. You just seemed like a cat person. I would’ve thought you had a fluffy, overweight Persian named Princess Jessica.”

Tim makes a face. “I’m allergic to cats.”

“Ah, that explains why you don’t have one then.” Tony just laughs.

“Like you’d have a pet,” Tim mutters into his drink.

“I do. A spoiled rotten goldfish named Kate.” Tony suddenly snaps his fingers as he fiddles with his cell phone. “So I’m going to have my assistant arrange an all-expenses paid trip to a doggie resort and spa for…” He waves his hand at Tim for the dog’s name.

“Jethro.”

“We’ll work on the names,” Tony says, shaking his head. Then a half-second later, he adds: “There, we’re all booked. Jethro will have the time of his furry, canine life.”

Tim grins. “Then count me in.”

“Good, my assistant will get…” he wrinkles his nose “…Jethro first thing tomorrow morning and my private jet will get us in the afternoon.”

Tim gapes at him. “Private jet?”

Tony cracks up. “Gotcha! I don’t have a private jet, but I do get to fly first class a lot.”

Before Tim has a chance to reply, one of the women Tony flirted with earlier approaches them. She is everything that Tim assumes Tony gets regularly: blonde and big-busted with legs that go on for days. Tim tries not to stare at the necklace being swallowed by her cleavage, but the wine robs him of his chivalry. Tony leans back against the bar, turns on a seductive smile like he does this all the time.

“How are you doing tonight, beautiful?” He keeps his voice, low and husky like a male lead in a romance.

“My friends and I…well, we can’t agree. We weren’t able to figure out. Are you…” Barely able to finish, she glances back to her friends. They wave her onward “…are you Tony DiNozzo?”

Tony shoots Tim a look that seems to say _watch this._

And in that moment, Tim thinks that Tony is probably trying to solidify his role at Tommy DeNiro in the _Deep Six_ movie. Even though it isn’t part of Tim’s contract to pick _that_ role, he decides that isn’t something Tony needs to know because he seems so hellbent on making his audition count.

At least, Tim thinks so. He doesn’t know whether this is the real Tony or trying another personality for the actor tries on for size.

“Actually, the name’s Tommy, but I get that a lot.” Tony shakes his head like he is a little disappointed. “And here, I thought you were coming over to invite my friend and I to join you ladies.”

“I was…I am…” The woman’s face turns panicked as she sputters. “Would you two like to come to our table for a drink? We just ordered nachos.” She seems to think that tortilla chips could sweeten a deal that included her and ten of her closest—and equally beautiful—friends.

Tim is just about to decline when Tony jumps in, “We’d love to. My friend, Tim, here absolutely loves nachos, white wine, beautiful women, and puppies. Cute, fluffy puppies.”

She giggles to herself, completely ignoring Tim and keeping her eyes fixed on Tony. “I’m Miranda.”

“Only a beautiful name could fit a beautiful creature like yourself,” Tony murmurs.

Tim rolls his eyes at how Tony hams it up, but it must be working because Miranda’s friends wave them over. Leading the way back to her table, she totters on her sky high heels to an open seat. Tony and Tim pull a pair of empty chairs over from a nearby table.

Up close, the women are even more beautiful and to Tim, it feels like there are hundreds of them. He has never seen so many model-sized blondes in one place before. His chest tightens as they converge on him and Tony like a pack of hungry animals. But eventually, he ends up being foisted out of the conversation they’re having with Tony, who is busy regaling them with made-up stories of Agent Tommy’s adventures at the make-believe NCIS. The women lean forward to drool over every word.

Tim finds himself at the far edge of the table with a brunette who looks as underwhelmed as he feels. Her conservative wrap dress and glass of red wine seem out of place with her friends’ dangerously short miniskirts, plunging necklines, and radioactive candy-colored drinks.

He slides into the seat next to her. “Hey.”

“I can’t believe they’re buying your friend’s bullshit,” she says bitterly.

Tim smiles. “He isn’t really my friend. He’s just some guy I know from work.” He points to the group of women who look like something out of _Girls Gone Wild._ Not that he’s actually seen that video or anything. “You’ve got some interesting friends yourself.”

“My roommate always makes me come out with her and her crew.” She uses her wine glass to point out Miranda before she takes a sip. “Says I work too much to have a life.”

“I hear that a lot too.” He offers her his hand and she shakes it. “I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Delilah.”

When the group of women let out a loud gasp, Tim and Delilah look over. Tony stands in the middle of the group, pausing dramatically with his hands outstretched. He lets the silence stretch long enough for Miranda to grab his arm. When he launches into the rest of the story, her chest heaves with relief.

Tim chuckles. “So what do you do for a living anyway?”

“I work for the DoD, but I’m not really allowed to talk about it at all.” Delilah’s fingers trace the steam of her wineglass. “And you?”

Tim tries another life on for size. “I’m a writer.”

“And how do you know an NCIS agent?”

“He’s my…uh, my source.”

Delilah pauses as she stares at Tony. Her smile is light hearted. “Yeah right.”

Floundering, Tim clears his throat, but she changes the topic quickly. She tells him a story about the last time she had to take a work trip to Dubai. He hangs on every word of descriptions of the exotic location and the little details she lets slip about her covert work. They talk about everything and by the time the house lights come up, Tim feels like he’s known her for his entire life.

The women head back to the table, ready to pick up their purses and their friend before they wander out onto the sleepy city streets. Delilah starts to ease herself out from behind the table.

Tim catches the sight of her wheelchair for the first time.

He bolts out of his seat, tripping over himself to move the table out of her way. She offers him a thankful smile. Tim is just about to get her number when Tony materializes by his side. He slings his arm around Tim’s shoulders and the Scotch on his breath nearly brings the agent to tears.

“Having a good night, MacLoverboy?” Tony slurs.

Tim’s cheeks flush. “Better than yours, I bet.”

Tony glances back at his fan club. “I doubt that. They really eat up your agent stories. Did you know that? You should try telling them sometime. You’d get laid every night.”

The blush deepens on Tim’s face as his panicked gaze darts to Delilah. Tony’s drunken attention follows.

He leers at her. “Nice wheels, hot stuff.”

Tim is pretty sure that he’s heard the line in the only one of Tony’s movies that he ever bothered to watch. He thinks it might have been about cars that go too fast and women whose fashion choices are limited to hot pants and mini-skirts. Embarrassment crashes over him like a wave and Tim just wants to get the hell out of here. Any chance that he had with Delilah probably just vanished.

But Delilah just glances up at Tony. “Yeah, I decided walking was overrated. Not to mention, I got tired of scuffing my shoes.”

Tony actually laughs. Tim waits until she does to before he joins in. Behind them, her friends break out into drunken giggles too as though they might be part of the moment too. Tim wants to hold onto it as long as possible. But just like that, her friends swarm around her to say goodbye to Tony.

Delilah makes it a few feet towards the door.

Hopelessness worms its way through Tim’s gut.

_I won’t fuck up meeting a great girl like that next time._

When she turns back, his heart lifts.

“Hey, Tim!” He heads over as she reaches into her purse to pull out a card. “Give me a call sometime. I’d love to get to know you better.” Then she grins broadly and waves to Tony. “Nice to meet you, Tony DiNozzo! You were great in _Up All Night_. When’s the sequel coming out?”

Tony drunkenly smiles. “I start filming next week, so probably over the summer.”

With wide-eyed, Delilah’s group of friends swivel back to stare at Tony. From the look on their faces, Tim thinks the women are about to rip Tony apart to get a piece of him for their star-studded collections. Tony rushes towards the door with a gaggle of girls hot on his heels, begging him for an autograph.

Tim hangs back, but the tilt of Delilah’s head sends him after Tony.

Before they can escape, Tony is subjected to signing everything in sight—receipts, books, cell phones, and yes, boobs—and so many selfies that Tim doubts those spots will ever be gone from his vision.

Then, they stumble out of the bar into the chilly night. Their breath curls up around them as they make their way down the deserted street.

Tony is so drunk that he can’t walk straight, so Tim holds the movie star up as he searches for a cab. Somewhere behind them, he hears the excited whoops of Delilah’s friends as they recount their meeting Tony DiNozzo at the bar loud enough that the entire neighborhood can hear. Smiling to himself, Tim double-checks that her card is still safe and sound in his pocket.

“So how does it feel?” Tony blurts out suddenly.

Pausing, Tim faces him. “What?”

“Today. This.” Tony swings his hands to emphasize something more than the bleak, empty street and the dark. “All of this.”

“Good.” Tim sighs, conceding. “Better than good. Great. I had fun.”

Tony shoots him a drunken grin. “See? I told you that it wouldn’t hurt to live a little.”

“Fine, you were right.” Tim is so quiet that it comes out as a whisper.

“What was that?” Tony gets right in Tim’s face.

“You were right.”

“Damn straight.” Tony laughs. “Now, about that part.”

“You’ll be perfect as Agent Tommy.”

Half-nodding, Tony glances at a passerby in the dark. When the person stops to watch them, Tony stares Tim deeply in the eyes. “Can I bring my own interpretation to the character?”

Tim takes a step back as he bites his lip, considering. Agent Tommy was a bit part—comedic gold at his best and a case-solving plot device at his worst. Surely, it will be a waste of Tony DiNozzo’s talents. But after today, Tim doesn’t think anyone else could give his character justice.

“Yeah,” Tim says with a smile, “take Agent Tommy in whatever direction you see fit.”

Tony’s grin is lightning fast. “You won’t regret it.”

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**WASHINTON, DC** – Some lucky fans at a bar in the nation’s capital were treated to a surprise visit from Tony DiNozzo tonight. He was spotted sharing food and drinks with the same man from earlier today—who based on the photographic evidence appears to be a GWLF (a geek we’d like to…well, you know.) While we still don’t know the true reason for Tony D’s impromptu visit across the country, we can report that he and the GWLF were seen leaving the bar at last call…together.

All we have to say is: thanks for breaking our hearts, Tony D.


	10. Epilogue

**One and a Half Years Later**

**HOLLYWOOD, CA**. – Fans of Thom E. Gemcity’s DEEP SIX will be treated to a rollicking good time in the thriller turned comedy movie adaptation. Tony DiNozzo’s portrayal of Agent Tommy DeNiro steals the show. DiNozzo pours a lot of heart into what a character that appears to be a vapid stereotype of wisecracks and frat-boy humor in Gemcity’s novel. When he isn’t getting his head whacked by Jamison Paul’s LJ Tibbs, DiNozzo is closing cases with his lovable and relatable teammates, Agent Lisa Davis (Jacklyn Bauer) and Agent Liam MacGregor (Maddox Cotta). Explosions and romance (MacGregor and Jeanne Benoit as Amy Sutton as well as DeNiro and Davis) heat up the screen, but it’s the interactions of the cast and their subtle nuances of humor that will keep you on the edge of your seat and counting down the days to the sequel. Rumors have already started that the DEEP SIX franchise has the potential for many more installments. As soon as we get more novels for the movies.

Do you hear that, Mr. Gemcity? Get writing!

**Rating: 3.5/4 stars**

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**11:02pm – A Friday in April – More Human than Human Lounge – Hollywood, CA –**

As soon as he arrives at the after party for the _Deep Six_ premiere, Tim knows that he is way out of his league. His rented, off the rack tuxedo seems to hug his body in all the wrong places. Even though Delilah swore up and down that he would fit right in with the rich and famous of Hollywood, he has never felt more out of place in his entire life. His outfit can’t compete with the custom-tailored, designer duds of the other partygoers. Tim straightens his lapel as though that’s all he needs to transform him from an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan.

Delilah grabs his hand, gives him one good squeeze.

When he glances down to her, he finally catches his breath.

She sighs wistfully. “This place is amazing.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off her. “Yeah, amazing.”

And she does look incredible in her eggplant-colored, fit and flare dress that rivals the most opulent gowns in the room. She swore it was just an old prom dress, but Tim suspects it might be more than that. Then again, he still finds her as beautiful in sweatpants as he does tonight.

Her dark hair is pulled into a tight chignon that exposes the hollows of her neck. She tilts her chin towards the ceiling where tiny crystals hang, shimmering in the low light like raindrops. But they don’t sparkle as much as he tiny diamond earrings.

Tim kisses the back of her hand. She smiles up at him.

Moments later, a passing waiter crouches to offer her a flute of champagne. She takes two and passes one to Tim. He takes a sip. Then, he sputters it back into the glass.

“Good G-d,” he says, “I bet this costs more than my car.”

“Yeah, but it _is_ delicious.” Delilah laughs. “I think we should get a bottle to celebrate when you get around to finishing your sequel.”

“If my next advance is the same as my first, I doubt we can afford it.” He samples it again and sighs. “I just need to find the time to get it done.”

She shoots him a mischievous smile. “How long does it take before your agent comes and chains you to your typewriter anyway?”

“If you believe her, any day now. But I think I’m safe.” He makes a face. “For now.”

After Delilah finishes her drink, she motions for Tim to surrender his and he gladly does. Once she is done with that one, they slowly work their way around the room. Moving around a crowded space with Delilah is never easy, but Tim never leaves her side. They share a comfortable, familiar conversation as people that they recognize from movie and television screens mill around them. In the back corner, a DJ blares something that Tim thinks could pass for music.

His eyes keep searching the crowd for the one person he knows, the one person who called Gibbs every day until he gave Tim permission to attend the premiere.

But Tony isn’t anywhere to be found.

Occasionally, someone will stop Tim to congratulate him on his wonderful book. He just smiles and nods, faking his way through every exchange as they ask him about what comes next, who gets together, and when they next movie will be. Every conversation leaves him feeling hollow and exposed.

He wishes he and Delilah were curled up on their couch, watching a movie while they share a bottle wine they can actually afford. But the look on her face tells him that she might be enjoying herself. When he can’t bear the crowd any longer, Tim starts to suggest that they get the hell out of here.

Someone’s hand smacks him square on the back.

Tim plasters on that phony smile that he can’t seem to master and turns around.

He comes face to face with Tony DiNozzo. With a tuxedo that fits him so perfect that he looks to be sewed into it and expertly styled hair, Tony looks like he just stepped out of a fashion shoot.

Grinning broadly, Tony joins them. “I’ve been looking for you two all night.” He and Delilah share their usual greeting: a secret handshake ending with a high-five. “Glad you could the time off from work, Wheels.”

“It was just the matter of asking the right people, Bi-Ped.” Delilah shoots back with a smile. 

Tony laughs heartily. “I never get tired of that one.”

“Me neither,” she replies, giggling. 

Even though he has seen the exchange countless times, it still makes Tim’s stomach turn. Why they can’t just say hello to each other like normal people doesn’t make any sense to him.

Tim never knows what to do in this situation, so he just waves. “Hey Tony. I’m impressed that you were able to get us tickets at the last minute.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s not my fault the judge wouldn’t uphold that end of Michaels’ plea deal, so I had a few extras.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

“I’m totally kidding. Michaels and his handlers left right after the movie to take him back to NCIS holding in Los Angeles.” Before Tim has a chance to find out how the hell Tony knows that, he moves on. “So how does it feel being the ‘The Man Behind the Curtain’ and seeing your creation come to life?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Tim says, tilting his head.

Tony flounders. “ _The Wizard of Oz._ The man – “

“Oh, Tony, don’t mind him,” Delilah says, waving her hand dismissively.

She and Tony crack up at the inside joke they share at Tim’s expense like they usually do at get-togethers. Whenever Tony visits them in Washington, Tim often feels like third wheel to the Tony and Delilah show. Honestly, Tim probably would’ve stopped them long ago, but he loves seeing how she comes to life around Tony.

“I still can’t believe how great you did in the movie, Tony,” Delilah breathes. “I love how you interpreted Agent Tommy. You really made him feels real. He came across a little flat in the book.”

“Yeah, you did a great job,” Tim parrots, leaving out his complaint about how the studio rewrote the script to make MacGregor a minor character so Agent Tommy could steal the show.

Tony dips his head to hide his flushed cheeks. “Thank you guys.”

At that moment, a redhead drunkenly stumbles into the group. She grabs onto Tony’s arm as she fights gravity to stay upright. Her chest heaves as it nearly falls out of her skin-tight blood-red dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Tim stares at her like a deer in the headlights. “Bullock? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Taking a break from babysitting Michaels.” Carolyn leans forward to tap Tim’s chest, but misses by a mile. Then she stage-whispers: “Don’t worry, McGee. I won’t tell Gibbs, if you won’t.”

Just when Tim is about to let it go, he notices how close she leans to Tony, how his hand lingers at the small of her back, how he stares at her with unwavering adoration. Tim takes a step back, gesturing wildly between Carolyn and Tony.

“Wait, are you two…” he barely gets the word out “…dating?”

Tony and Carolyn share a glance that seems to say _we’re so busted._ When Tony shrugs like a little kid caught in the middle of a prank, Carolyn collapses against him in a fit of drunken laughter.

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose as thought it might make the sight disappear from in front of him. For some reason, the thought of his direct superior and his movie star…his Tony…. _his friend_ feels like an insane betrayal like the pair had no respect for Gibbs’ Rule 12—or was it Tibbs’ rule 25?  

“You really had no idea, McGee?” Carolyn asks as though he is too stupid to process the situation.

And it makes him think, for a moment, that maybe he isn’t seeing things quite right. Tim hazards a glance at Delilah just to make sure he isn’t going crazy, but she just shrugs.

Tony goes suddenly sober. “Why else would I keep coming to DC, Tim?”

“To see me.” He points to Delilah. “To see us.”

“Not that I don’t love you both, but I would need more incentive to make the trip every other weekend.” With that, Tony drags Carolyn closer and she crows with excitement.

Delilah smiles as graciously as she can. “You know what, I could use a drink.”

“Bring me one?” Tim’s tone borders on pleading.

“Absolutely,” she says, giving his hand one last tight squeeze.

And just like that, she disappears into the crowd after a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes. Carolyn suddenly loses interest in Tony.

“Did someone say more champagne?” she slurs. “Wait up, Delilah. I’m on your six!”

Chuckling, Tony just lets her go when she pushes him away as though he turned radioactive.

If Tim didn’t know better, he might think Delilah hit the gas on her wheelchair to escape Carolyn. Even though the women are friendly enough back home, he doubts the two would have anything discuss outside of work and mutual cases—and of course, Tim.

Turning his attention back to Tony, Tim fumbles with the lapel of his jacket again. No matter how many times he smooths it, the damned thing won’t lay flat like it’s supposed to. He works his fingers against the sateen edge, trying to feeling an ounce of the calm that Tony exudes like it’s nothing at all. The movie star works the room like a pro, pointing and high-fiving and spouting movie quote at anyone and everyone who stops to congratulate him.

When they have a moment alone, Tony reaches over to fiddle with Tim’s lapel for him.

“There. That’s good enough,” Tony says.

 “So you and Carolyn, huh?” Tim blurts out. “How long has that been going on for?”

Tony’s lascivious grin instantly makes Tim regret his conversation choice. “Ever since I followed you around last year. It sorta started when I needed a distraction one weekend while you and Delilah were busy. I kept traveling to keep those rumors about us going. And then, I just – “ Tony’s eyes search the room for Carolyn “ – fell for her.”

Tim tilts his head. “What do you mean? Rumors about us?”

“Have you read the tabloids lately? Or like ever?” When Tim makes a face, Tony laughs. “You really live under a rock, don’t you?”

“I happen to like it there. But seriously, what’s going on?”

“I guess some paparazzo got the wrong idea about my trip last year. They thought you and I were, get this – “ He cracks up again, but Tim doesn’t join in “ – dating. Can you imagine that?”

Even though he can’t, Tim still feels a tad offended. “What’s wrong with that?”

The humor vanishes from Tony’s face. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not really.” Tim shifts his weight. “I mean, why couldn’t you see us together?”

“For starters, I’m me and well, you’re…” Tony gestures at Tim still tensely playing with the lapel of his jacket “…you.” When Tim doesn’t say anything, Tony huffs. “Do you really give a shit what people who read gossip mags and internet blogs think?”

Tim bites his lip. “Maybe.”  

“They thought we were gay. Together.” 

That makes Tim reconsider and he says firmly: “No, I don’t care.”

“If it makes you feel any better, everyone was rooting for you. But sadly, Tim, I think this is the end for us.” Tony puts on a mock pout. “It’s not me, it’s you. You’re just not my type. I prefer my love interests a little more…” his gaze searches the room for Carolyn and Delilah “…female.”

Tim laughs, feeling oddly relieved. “Am I supposed to throw a drink in your face or something?”

“Only if you want to be known as the GILF who made a scene.”

“A what?”

“Don’t ask, Tim.” Tony holds his hand up. “Don’t ask.”

And Tim doesn’t. “Since we’re not really dating, why did you let the rouse go on for so long?”

“All in the name of publicity, Mr. Gemcity.” Tony grabs two glasses of champagne from a passing waiting and hands one to Tim. “Any time in the press is good time, if you want to sell movie tickets.”

“And that’s just it? You let your fans think you were gay to sell tickets? That seems like a terrible idea, if you ask me.”

“You always manage to see right through people, Tim.” For the first time all night, Tony’s smile is genuine. “I had to keep Carolyn out of the spotlight until I was sure we could be the real thing. That sort of thing could’ve wrecked what we had before it even had a chance.”

Tim follows Tony’s gaze to where Delilah and Carolyn are parked in a corner. In her lap, Delilah holds a tray of champagne flutes while she and Carolyn work their way through them. Carolyn animatedly rambles, arms pinwheeling and head bobbing. Despite the good show she puts on, Delilah appears to be bored out of her mind. Tony’s face turns winsome at the sight.

“Is it going well between you two?” Tim asks.  

“About as good as you and Delilah,” Tony replies, earning him a small smile. “Did you buy that ring yet?”  

Tim makes a face. “It just never seems like the right time.”

“Come on, MacProcrastinator, there’s no time like the present.” Tony claps his hands, but Tim just makes a face. “Or you could try big romance for the proposal? Maybe something with fireworks and champagne?”

“That only works in Hollywood.”

“I can make it happen. I’ll call in a couple of favors. I know a guy who knows a guy who does sky writing. Nothing works quicker than that to get a woman to say yes.” He smiles to himself. “To anything.”

Tim doesn’t want to know what _anything_ means. So he says: “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t wait too long.” Tony gestures to where Carolyn and Delilah are. “You don’t want to lose that.”

Across the room, the women have moved on from champagne to stalking a waiter with a plate of crab puffs like lionesses on the Serengeti. When Delilah bumps into the waiter with her wheelchair, Carolyn swoops in for the kill and disappears into the crowd with the platter. Delilah wheels right after her.

Tony presses his lips together. “Not one of their finer moments, huh?”

Grinning, Tim just shakes his head.

“You know, I bet the sooner you ask her to marry you, the sooner you’ll get over your writer’s block.”

“I don’t have writer’s block.”

Tony glances over with eyebrows raises. “Then why haven’t you sent me any new chapters on your sequel for months? I’m dying to know whether Tommy and Lisa finally get together or not.”

Tim half-shrugs. “I guess I haven’t felt like writing _Deep Six_ recently.”

“You better start feeling like it or my agent is going to start harassing you too.”

“Mine already told me that she was going to have me locked up until I got the first draft done.”

Tony chuckles. “Gotta love Lindy. The woman will get that book out of you.”

“Or die trying,” Tim says with a sigh.

Tony glances over, his expression suddenly solemn. “But seriously Tim, why did you just stop writing? You are so talented. It just seems like a waste, you know.”

Shifting his weight, Tim looks out into the crowd. “I didn’t stop. I decided to try a different genre, but I didn’t want anyone to find out until I was done with the first draft.”

“You abandoned _Deep Six?_ What will your fans do without Agent Tommy and Agent MacGregor?” Tony’s mouth falls open as he grabs Tim’s shoulders. “What will _I_ do without them?”

Tim tries to take a step back, but Tony holds him tight. They stare at each other for a long moment and Tim is pretty certain that he won’t be getting out of here without confessing his latest writing sins.

He holds his hands up. “I didn’t give up on my series.”

Tony’s face darkens like a deranged fan, ready to rip Tim apart in order to find out the ending. “Then what would you call it, Tim?”

“I think you like to describe changing projects as, ‘expanding your horizons.’” When Tony still doesn’t move, Tim forces a bright smile. “Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll get back to _Deep Six_ soon. I’ve got some great ideas for Tommy and MacGregor.”

“Like?”

“Deep cover stuff.”

Tony nods like he finds it acceptable. “Spy shit, that I can work with. I’ve always wanted to play a CIA agent, but playing Agent Tommy as an operative. It could be amazing. Epic, in fact. I bet we could get the studio to raise the budget for the next one. We just need to – “

“Hold your horses, Tony. I still have a while before I get there. I want to finish my epic fantasy first.” Before Tony has the chance to whine, Tim blurts out: “Do you think you’d be interested in playing a character in the movie version?”

When a waiter stops to offer them mini-quiches, Tim goes silent as though the worker might steal his idea. Tim politely declines the food while Tony takes one in each hand. Tony takes a bite, chewing thoughtful as he mulls over Tim’s offer.

“That depends,” he says, mouth full. “Are we talking _Game of Thrones_ or _Lord of the Rings_ level of epic? While I loved Tolkien’s stuff, _The Silmarillion_ bores me to tears. So if it’s like that, I might - ”

“Think _Game of Thrones_ with the same level of world building as _Lord of the Rings_ with a bit of Terry Brooks mixed in for good measure.”  

Tony nearly chokes on his quiche. “Tell…me…more.”

Tim grins. “It all starts with an Elf-Lord named TimBo MacGraggins…”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "The Audition" by unilocular](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725719) by [penumbria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria)




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